Ryck, with Çağlar on his ass, ran through the eerily quiet city. A few civilians peering from doorways and out windows watched them run by with empty eyes, but most of the population had fled to the harbor and had boarded boats, planes, and shuttles—anything to get away. Third Brigade, now boarding the fleet of craft sent down by the Navy, reported that the docks, gangways, and the sports complex on the shore were packed, and fights were breaking out.
The task force had been sent to save them, but now Marines in PICS were physically shoving the people out of the way as they cleared landing zones. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Ryck was huffing far more than he should be in his PICS. The combat suit was merely taking his own musculature impulses and transferring them to the suit’s mechanical “muscles,” so Ryck shouldn’t be winded. But he didn’t need to pull his unauthorized monitor online to know why. He’d known the Brick had metastasized into his lungs already, and now it had to be pretty entrenched.
Ryck, Çağlar, Staff Sergeant Baptiste, and Doc Lewis ran together down a broad, tree-lined boulevard. Other groups of Marines ran within sight as the AIs frantically ran calculations, adjusting them according to the situation, in order to give each Marine an embark point. Ryck may still have been in command, but the retreat had devolved into a personal effort, with the AIs directing each one individually. Ryck could still take over and issue orders if he deemed fit, even to order the brigade to hold and fight. He’d considered that for a moment. He’d “run” from the capys on GenAg 13 to get civilians evacuated, and while the cause had been just, that still ate at him. By long tradition, Marines did not run from a fight.
But to stop and fight now would accomplish nothing other than getting his brigade wiped out, and to what avail? The Navy craft coming in to pick them up would not be rescuing civilians, so while an additional handful of the civilians might have time to flee if Ryck turned the brigade, it would be at a tremendous cost in Marine lives, lives that were now needed to defend Yakima 4. Ryck’s orders were firm: get off the planet. It tore him apart that the he was abandoning the people he’d been sent to save, but there wasn’t a tactically sound reason for him to disobey his orders and turn the brigade.
Ryck tried to filter his display to monitor to where his men were being directed. It was almost impossible, but he felt he had to be doing something.
“Sir, you’re slowing down,” Çağlar said over his externals, moving up to take the right arm of Ryck’s PICS in his as if he was going to pull him along. “Are you OK?”
“Default display,” Ryck ordered his AI, then, “Yes, I’m fine. I just got caught up in trying to monitor everything. I’m with you now, Hans.”
Without the data overload, Ryck could concentrate on keeping moving. The four of them had been being directed to the sports complex, but as they came within 600 meters, they were redirected to the Knoferee Pier, a kilometer-long tourist destination dotted with small food stands and shops.
Ryck pulled up an overhead view of the harbor area. The last of Third Brigade was lifting out of the sports complex, and the hordes of civilians were mobbing the fields, obviously hoping for more shuttles. With the mass of humanity, the shuttles couldn’t land, and Ryck doubted the Marines could clear either of the two playing fields before the Klethos arrived.
Marines from 3/14 had been directed to the harbor’s edge and into the water. Within moments, a huge ore hauler floated down from the sky to land some 20 meters offshore, sending a little tsunami that knocked down a few PICS Marines and more than a few civilians who had followed the Marines into the water. So far, the Klethos had left shuttles alone, but this was the largest vessel to test the Klethos. Ryck knew the Navy didn’t have any ore haulers, so the civilian pilot must have had a large set of gonads to bring the big ship in.
The ore hauler was one of the largest vessels that could transit space as well as land on a planet. Most, like this one, were not capable of deep space travel, but between planets within a system, they were work horses. And if the Klethos allowed it, the ship could certainly haul Marines up to the waiting Navy vessels. It could haul a lot of Marines.
What it didn’t have was an enclosed and pressurized cargo bay. Ore didn’t need oxygen. Ore was typically loaded into the open hauling bay and kept in place with short-reach tractor beams.
Ryck had to acknowledge the quick-thinker who had sent the ore-hauler. A Marine in a PICS could survive a vacuum until the oxygen inside the suit ran out, which might be in ten or twelve hours. And what was a PICS but metal ore, if rather refined and worked ore? The tractor beams would hold them just as well as raw ore, and with the Marines stacked like layers of sardines, Ryck thought the entire depleted battalion could be loaded on board.
Ryck watched long enough to see the Marines start to clamber aboard. A few civilians tried to get on as well, only to be thrown off by the Marines and into the water. That saved their lives, as least for the moment. They would have died as soon as the hauler left the planet’s atmosphere.
Ryck’s PICS’ navigator shunted him off the main boulevard and to a smaller road leading down the pier’s entrance. Some of the 2/3 Marines were already moving onto the pier, but more and more civilians were also streaming on and clogging the route.
“Sandy, I want a team to close off the entrance to the pier,” he passed on the P2P.
Sandy’s avatar showed him to be about 200 meters ahead of him, out of Ryck’s view what with the people and other Marines between them.
“Roger. I’m on it,” Sandy replied.
Ryck pushed closer, but was slowed down by the need to avoid crushing the civilians.
“Please, sir, help us,” a woman cried out as she ran up to him, one hand reaching up to touch his chest carapace, the other holding a baby.
Ryck’s heart broke as he used one arm to gently push her aside as he twisted his PICS to slide past her. He didn’t know what her fate would be, what any of these people’s fate would be. At some point, he was pretty sure Knoferee would be nuked, and they had to get out of the city before then. They needed to be gone before the Klethos arrived.
He turned to look back, half-expecting to see the first of the creatures running down the road. There was just no way the people were going to be gone before the Klethos were among them.
More and more Marines converged at on the traffic circle in front of the pier entrance. Ryck was trying to be careful, but several bleeding people, pushed up against the storefront and with others tending them, were a testament that not all of the PICS Marines had been able to avoid stepping on or otherwise hurting them. One teenage boy lay in the gutter, his neck and half of his face crushed, the crowd ignoring him. His “Sneering Eagles” white t-shirt was stained bright red.
It took the four of them almost five minutes to make the 200 meters to the pier. Ryck checked his schedule. He’d previously instructed his AI to get him on one of the last shuttles. Someone from above had countermanded that order, but Ryck had reinstated it. He understood that the high command wanted him off first, to make sure he was around to lead the brigade on Yakima 4, but he just couldn’t do it. He had to watch out for his men.
Twenty Marines stood guard at the entrance, keeping the civilians at bay while letting other Marines through. Along the length of the pier, shuttles, returning from the first lift, were slowly maneuvering, some of the smaller ones landing on the pier itself while the larger ones hovered just off the pier, their ramps lowered so the leading edges crushed the guardrails and were flush on the pier’s surface.
A quick scan showed that 12 of the Marines forming the guard were scheduled to embark on a shuttle that was already in place. The AIs would adjust as necessary, but time was of an essence.
“Lieutenant diCarlo, get your men on the shuttle,” he ordered.
“But—”
“But nothing. We can’t screw this up.”
Ryck turned to face the crowd as more Marines made their way onto the pier. He looked up and down the beach from his van
tage point, seeking any sign of the Klethos. All he saw was a mass of bodies, thousands of them, and the ore hauler, a good klick away. There was a dwindling number of Marines in the water and climbing onboard. A quick query, and he could see that almost the entire battalion, those who had survived the battle, would be able to make it. Within a minute or two, the hauler would take off to rendezvous with a Navy ship above.
Panicked screams from down the road alerted Ryck. He swung back and caught the unmistakable sight of the beaked, crested head of a Klethos 300 meters away. Another joined it. There was no dancing now. The battle had already been joined. Ryck could almost feel the glare of the creatures as they seemed to lock onto him.
Directly in front of Ryck, civilians heard the screams, and they twisted around to see the cause. The rest of the people blocked the Marines’ views though, but they had to be able to guess what was happening.
“Get moving!” Ryck shouted needlessly into the command circuit to the 30 or 40 Marines still out on the street. “Now!”
The Marines pushed against the crowd, heedless if they were hurting anyone. It still took a precious minute or two for the Marines to get onto the pier. A number of civilians squeezed through the Marine cordon as well, but they were ignored.
“Scatter!” a Marine shouted over his externals, his PICS boosting the amplitude. “Get off the street if you want to live!”
If there had been any doubt in the minds of those nearest the pier entrance, that shout dispelled it. People started screaming as they pushed, some onto the pier, most to the sides and even down into the water.
The two Klethos were halfway to the pier. There were just too many people in the way, people they slashed with their swords. It wasn’t as if they were attacking them; it was more like an old-time farmer scything the wheat or an explorer using a machete to make his way through the jungle. They just wanted the people out of the way so they could reach their target, which Ryck knew was them.
He asked his AI for an embark report. As impossibly quick as the embark was going, the Klethos would reach them before the rest of the Marines boarded.
The huge ore hauler lifted out of the water, its cargo of Marines aboard. Ryck risked a glance and caught sight of Klethos rushing the beach, too late to reach the hauler. Some turned to look up at the pier and started to this new target.
“Sir, you need to go now,” Çağlar insisted, pulling on his arm.
Ryck shook free of his nanny and turned back to the two oncoming Klethos. Çağlar was probably right, but if they let the two creatures onto the pier, Ryck wouldn’t have had time to make it to his shuttle, and he’d be damned if he was going to be cut down from behind. No, their best chance was to hold them off right at the entrance, a natural choke point. It had been designed to keep out the non-paying customers, and it should work just as well against some jumped up bird-creature.
This was Horatio-at-the-Bridge time.
“Form up,” he passed to the 20-odd Marines. “They don’t get through no matter what.”
“I’ve got this, sir,” Sandy said on the P2P, moving up alongside him.
“I know. But I’m here, too,” Ryck said, a sense of satisfaction coming over him.
Sandy was his friend, even if their relationship had become a little strained. So it felt good to have him on one side, Hans Çağlar on the other. If he were going to Valhalla today, he’d be going with friends.
The first Klethos cut down two civilian men in the front ranks, severing one totally in half. It then vaulted over the dead bodies, lifted its head to scream, and charged. Four rockets slammed into it, one a lucky shot right into it leathery beak. The head was almost taken off as the creature’s body slid to a halt not two meters from the Marines. That had been a very, very lucky shot.
The second Klethos burst into the traffic circle as people cowered, trying to push out of its way. Its attention was strictly on the Marines formed up in front of it, however. It glanced at its dead comrade, then with sword raised, started to step up to meet them. Twenty-to-one was probably too much to overcome, but it never hesitated.
Only one of the Marines still had a pike, and one pike was not enough to corral one of them. Still, the Marine raised his pike, hitting it in the chest just at the creature lunged. The pike tip skittered off of its armor, but that had been just enough to throw the Klethos off balance, and its food slid in its comrade’s blood. Several rockets were fired with minimal effect, and a Marine darted forward to slash at it with his mameluke. The Marine scored a hit, but with unbelievable speed, the Klethos twisted and slashed through him, scoring deeply through his belly.
Ryck tried to move forward, but several more Marines beat him to it, blocking him. They repeatedly slashed down, animal frenzy overcoming rudimentary swordplay, shouting inarticulately. Sometimes, though, animal frenzy wins out. Several Marines were cut, one losing his forearm, but the Klethos was chopped to pieces.
“Recover!” Sandy shouted. “Recover, Marines!”
Discipline kicked in, overcoming the frenzy. The Marines fell back into line.
Ryck stepped back, checking the embark progress. Then he looked forward again. Down the road, several more Klethos made their appearance. Along the beach, a dozen or more were slashing their way through the people. Ryck figured they had a minute, two at the most.
“Time to embark?” he queried his AI.
His display flashed 85 seconds. They had to move.
“Take our wounded and move it now!” he ordered. “Get on the shuttles!”
Marines broke the formation to comply. The Marine almost cut in half was not even molted—he was picked up, PICS and all, by two Marines and dragged away. The one who had lost an arm was mobile, but already under anti-shock drugs. Another Marine took him by the other arm and helped him back.
All along the pier, shuttles were lifting. It was amazing that there were no collisions in the mass confusion. Four shuttles were left, then three, then two.
Ryck took one quick look back off the pier to see if they had left anyone. The civilians were creeping hesitantly forward. Suddenly, they broke into a run, charging the pier.
With Çağlar at his side, Ryck turned to run as well. His AI redirected him to the last remaining shuttle some 60 meters away. In a surprisingly calm train of thought, he noted that it was an AED class, a smaller shuttle that could carry maybe 30 PICS Marines. It hovered over the water, ramp on the edge of the pier. Ryck could clearly see the pilot through the front canopy, hand on the controls as he looked back down the pier at the oncoming Marines.
Ryck pounded down the pier. When he was 20 meters away, the pilot pointed behind him. Ryck flipped to his rear view screen to see three Klethos on the pier and pushing forward through the people.
“Get onboard now!” he screamed at his Marines.
The Navy crew chief was standing on the ramp, a small riot blaster in his hand and pointed at the Klethos. He looked ready to use it as he leaned forward, almost out of the craft, one arm hooked on the ramp strut to keep him inside.
The Marines hit the ramp at about the same time. Ryck and Çağlar turned to face the oncoming Klethos, rocket pistols out and ready. As Ryck turned, a tall, rugged-looking man threw something at him. Ryck instinctively caught it. To his surprise, it was a small, crying girl, who was now clinging to his arm like a baby monkey clinging to its mother. Ryck looked back up just in time to see the man mouth “Please” as one of the Klethos stepped on him, crushing him to the deck.
Something pulled Ryck back, and with the child on his arm, he turned and dove onto the ramp just as it was lifting from the pier. Careful not to crush the girl, he scrambled up, turning to look back as the shuttle lifted off.
One of the Klethos ran to the edge of the pier and launched itself up at the shuttle, amazingly jumping far enough to grab the edge of the ramp. The back of the shuttle dipped momentarily.
Shouts came over the open net. The crew chief leaned forward and blasted the Klethos is the face with its riot blaster. It didn
’t knock the creature off of the ramp, but it had to have hurt it. The Klethos screamed as it scrambled up and grabbed the crew chief, tearing him through the safety harness and throwing the broken body overboard.
Marines struggled to orient themselves and pull out their weapons as the Klethos stood up, if hunched over. It almost seemed to smile as it pulled out its sidearm with one hand and the sword with the other.
The Marines were too jumbled together, lying on top of each other, to immediately do much. The Klethos could take down the shuttle, Ryck realized and he tried to get up and unsheathe his mameluke. He shook off the girl, heedless of her screams just as a shape knocked him aside. He fell to the deck and looked up in time to see Sergeant Hans Çağlar hit the Klethos low on the thighs, arms wrapped around it in a classic rugby tackle.
“Hans!” Ryck shouted as the two tumbled out of the shuttle to disappear from sight.
“Pilot, we have to turn back!” he passed on the command circuit, and then the open circuit.
There was no answer as the shuttle climbed higher, picking up speed. The ramp closed, and Ryck’s view was cut off.
Ryck slumped back, eyes closed as it all hit him.
When he opened them again, a small pair of eyes was looking at him.
“What’s your name,” he passed on his circuit.
“She can’t hear you, sir,” some passed to him.
Marines were untangling themselves from each other, and several were looking in his direction.
Of course she can’t hear me.
“What’s your name,” he asked again, this time on his externals.
“Esther,” she answered cautiously.
Something hit his stomach hard, and he gasped for breath.
Esther? Like my Ester?
“Come here, Esther,” he said, holding out an arm.
Hesitantly, like a little mouse creeping out of a hole, the little girl crawled forward and crept into his lap.
Ryck put an armored arm around her and said, “You’re going to be OK, Esther. Your daddy loves you, and he made sure of that.”
Colonel (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 7) Page 18