Sergeant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 2) Page 3

  “What about sending a team, like out to join the lieutenant,” Sams offered. “Think they would follow the team?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. The team would be through them and gone,” SSgt Hecs said.

  Right then, Ryck knew what would work, but he hesitated to say it. As a new private on Atacama, in his first engagement, Ryck had seen the results of when miners had managed to knock down several PICS Marines and cracked them open with LTC drills. The sight of those Marines, opened up like a can of sardines, had stuck with Ryck through the ensuing years, a phobia that Ryck tried to suppress.

  “We need someone to take a dive,” Ryck said reluctantly.

  “A dive?” Sams asked.

  “Yeah. If a team runs through them out there, the staff sergeant is right. No one will follow. But what if two or three Marines make a dash, like they are making a break for it, but one Marine falls down? They’ll swarm him, jump all over him.

  “Shit!” Sams said, his opinion of the suggestion clear even over the circuit.

  “No, I think Ryck’s right. We need a distraction that’ll keep their attention,” SSgt Hecs said. “That would probably do it. We just need a few moments. I don’t think they could actually do anything to us in that amount of time.”

  “What about if one of them has a toad?” Sams asked, referring to a hand-held incendiary that could slowly burn through about anything, including a PICS.

  “That’s a chance I think we have to take. We haven’t seen anything to suggest that they might have something like that, and if they do, then our bait will just have to get up and out of there.”

  “So who’s going to do it?” Sams asked. “Who’s going to take the fall?”

  “I will,” Ryck said immediately.

  It was his idea—it was his responsibility to take the risk.

  “No,” SSgt Hecs said. “You’re a squad leader. I need to you for control. You need to bring up the rear, keeping everyone together, and trying to keep Marines between the bad guys and our cargo. Who else you got?”

  Ryck thought for a moment. Ling, Stillwell, Khouri, and Hartono were “mounts” for the dash out of there. Peretti would be a good choice, but Ryck wanted him to help cover the rear. That left Holleran as the best choice. Knowing him, he would probably even think it was fun.

  “Sams, give me one guy to go with Holleran, like two are making a break for it. Holleran will take the fall,” he said.

  “You gonna ask him if he volunteers?” Sams asked.

  “Don’t need to. He’ll do it. And sometimes, you just need to pick the best person for the job anyway,” Ryck said.

  “That’s it, then,” SSgt Hecs said. “I’ll tell Lieutenant Xie to bring in his men outside the door to encourage the civvies to focus on Holleran. Let me pass this up the chain, and you go tell Holleran. Sams, who’re you sending?”

  “Lopez. That mother can really get his PICS flying.”

  “OK, good. Get ready. I want to leave in two mikes,” he said before flipping back on the command circuit.

  Ryck could hear him reporting to Captain Davis their plans as Ryck grabbed Holleran and briefed him. As expected, Holleran was up for the idea. He thought it would be “fun.” Ryck couldn’t help but think of Sgt Nbele lying out on the ground on that Atacama mine pit, his PICS opened up and half of his guts spread out all over the dirt.

  It was closer to three minutes before the seven passengers were mounted up and everyone was in position. SSgt Hecs gave the command, and Holleran and Lopez pushed out the main doors while the five militiamen slipped back inside. Ryck had Holleran’s visuals on his visor. The lance corporal bounded down the steps as in front of him, startling the surprised protesters who then started to move back. Suddenly, the projection tumbled, making it hard to tell what was going on.

  “Falling” in a PICS was actually pretty hard to do. The gyros kept PICS upright through most forces thrown at it. The gyros had to be bypassed, and with them off, controlling the PICS took much more skill, skill Ryck hoped Holleran really did possess.

  A loud “fuck!” sounded out as Holleran yelled, making sure his speakers were on. For a moment, the visuals steadied with a view of the sky. Then images started crowding forward as they shouted for the Marine’s blood. A couple of men actually jumped on Holleran’s chest, making the visuals too jumbled to make much sense from.

  “Now!” SSgt Hecs passed, and Sams’ first fire team and then the mounts-with their cargo onboard-- pushed out the door to start running along the broad walkway that ran along the front of the building.

  One of the legionnaires shouted “giddyup” as they started to move, to Ryck’s annoyance.

  Ryck had to wait several moments before he, as the second-to-last one to leave, got outside. About 20 meters beyond the bottom of the steps, a mass of people was attacking the prone Holleran. Several of the crowd, though, had stopped when they realized more Marines were pouring out of the building. A few were starting towards them.

  To his left, Ryck saw that the way was clear all the way to the end of the building. Marines had already reached the edge and were disappearing down the stairs to ground level. He counted the seven mounts, their piggyback cargo still secure on their backs. As he took that in, a couple of the militiamen scooted past him and started running pell-mell after the lead elements.

  “OK Holleran,” he passed. “Get out of there now!”

  ROE be damned. If Holleran had any problem, Ryck was going to charge, his 8mm hypervelocity gun ablaze. Bodies were going to fall.

  A few of the protesters who were still focused on Holleran seemed to lose their footing. The welcome sight of a PICS Marine rose from the mass of people. It lurched forward, looking like at least one protestor was under its bulk. A few steps forward, and Holleran broke free and started into a lumbering run along the bottom of the stairs parallel to the route Ryck was now taking. Two protesters tried to stop Holleran, but they went flying like pinballs after colliding with him.

  At the end of the building, Ryck ran down the steps into the square. Along with the rest of his squad who were not acting as mounts and joined by Holleran, they formed a rough arc in back of the last of the cargo.

  “Vehicle at our two o’clock!” Cpl Mendoza passed.

  Ryck looked to see a hover picking up speed as it crossed the square, heading for where the Marines were entering the street that led deeper into the city. A quick mental calculation, and Ryck knew the hover could crash into the last of the Marines carrying the legionnaires and two civvies before they could get out and into the street. A hover at speed could probably only damage a PICS if it crashed into it, but the same impact could be deadly to any unprotected passenger.

  He was about to tell Prifit, one of the squad’s heavy gunners, armed with the 20mm HGL

  [6], to take out the hover when a burst of fire sounded behind him. He didn’t have to look back. His visor identified the outgoing fire as coming from two of the militiamen. The sparks flashed off the hover, then it fell to the ground sending even more sparks as it slid along the cobbles.

  “Rey, Prifit, Keiji, slow down a little. We’re going to cover those militia until they can at least get out of the square,” Ryck passed to First Fire Team.

  They might not be highly trained, but the militiamen, already being left in the dust, had stopped to remove a threat to the Marines. Ryck was not going to abandoned them.

  It seemed like forever, but it probably only took another minute until the militiamen, with the four Marines covering them, made it to the edge of the square. Lieutenant Xie gave Ryck a sloppy salute, then followed his men as they disappeared into the warrens that surrounded the area to the northeast of the square.

  Ryck immediately sped up his team and caught back up with the rest. The same warrens that gave the militiamen cover provided the same cover for anyone trying to stop the Marines so all senses were on full alert.

  Ryck only half listened to the recall of Capt Davis and Lt. Nidishchii’s groups to turn and move to thei
r respective rally points. They didn’t have unprotected people riding Marines.

  An explosion sounded in front of Ryck, and he caught a glimpse of a body being blown off one of the Marines. It wasn’t much of an explosion, probably a home-made grenade of some sort, but Ryck’s heart fell. Losing one of his charges was not supposed to happen. But much to Ryck’s surprise, the passenger got back to his feet. It was one of the Tylarians. The skin and bones he had put on had saved his butt. He shakily got back up on Hartono, and the group was back on the move.

  Despite the confined route to the rally point, they were able to move pretty quickly, only having to stop twice for one of the legionnaires who was having a hard time staying on his Marine.

  Eight minutes after leaving the square, they arrived at the rally point, which was a parking lot for a large Tesco store. Two Tylarian armored personnel carriers were there waiting. The five legionnaires and two Tylarians climbed off their Marines--gratefully, Ryck thought. The legionnaire who had fallen, a captain whose name Ryck hadn’t caught, had messed up his uniform pretty badly. It was torn, and one sleeve was hanging off. Major Gruenstein was rumpled, and his nose was bleeding where he had probably slammed it into the back of his ride, but he had somehow managed to keep the blood off of his uniform. None of the legionnaires looked good, uniform-wise. Looking at the two Tylarians, even the one who’d been blown off Hartono, Ryck thought the legionnaires would be looking much more presentable if they had put on the skins.

  “Well, Staff Sergeant Phantawisangtong, this was, shall we say, and adventure?” Major Gruenstein said, walking stiffly to the platoon sergeant.

  “Glad to be of service, sir,” the platoon sergeant said. “You should be at the LZ in another 10 or 15 minutes, so in less than an hour, you’ll be on a French vessel.”

  “Yes, and in the arms of dear Capitaine de corvette Blanchard,” he said dryly.

  Ryck laughed, despite himself. The major had escaped what could have been a serious situation. He’d been beat up on a long run riding piggyback on a PICS. He looked like shit. But still, inter-service rivalries and personal dislikes trumped all of that. It was good to know that the Legion was just like any other service.

  The major might have a feather up his ass, but Ryck found he kind of liked the guy. He wished him well, at least.

  Major Gruenstein loaded up his four legionnaires, then turned and saluted the Marines before getting in himself. A moment later, the personnel carrier roared out of the parking lot and disappeared down the road in a cloud of black smoke.

  “Good job, everyone,” SSgt Hecs said. “ We accomplished that part of the mission, but it’s not over yet. We’ve got another five klicks to the rest of the platoon before we can get out of here. The ROE is still in effect. We will avoid any situation that can get ugly. Any questions?”

  “Yeah, anyone got any charge on them?” Sams asked Ryck and SSgt Hecs on the command circuit.

  “What?” SSgt Hecs asked, .

  “Charge. On your PA. Money.”

  “What the grubbing hell for, Sams?” Ryck asked.

  “Coke. That’s a Tesco there. They’ve got to have Coke. I want a Coke.”

  Ryck started laughing, choking it off as SSgt Hecs flipped them back to the platoon circuit.

  “If no questions, let’s get the hell out of here,” SSgt Hector Phantawisangtong, Federation Marines Corps, passed on to his men.

  Alexander

  Chapter 2

  “You ready for this shit?” Sams whispered out of the side of his mouth to Ryck.

  “Quiet in the ranks,” Lieutenant Nidishchii’ hissed, shutting Sams up.

  The entire battalion was formed up in front of the nine of them: Capt Davis, the lieutenant, Lieutenant Lauer from Second Platoon, SSgt Hecs, Sams, Ryck, Lips Holleran, and Fab Groton, one of the squad leaders from Second.

  The PA system was not working well. With galactic travel a long accepted fact of life, Ryck thought a simple PA system should not be beyond their capabilities. At least the battalion adjutant was able to project his voice.

  “Personnel to be recognized, front and center . . . march!” he called out, his command clearly reaching them in back of the formation.

  “Detail, right face,” Capt Davis ordered. “Forward, march.”

  The eight Marines marched to the far right side of the formation, in back of H & S Company, then performed a column left and marched up alongside the formation. They conducted another column left after clearing the battalion, marching along its front to the center before halting.

  “Detail, right, face. Present, arms!” the captain ordered.

  Nine Marines saluted the three men in front of them. One of the men was the battalion commander. The second was none other than Major General Praeter, the division commanding general. The third was a Général Denis Bellerose, a Legion three-star. Général Bellerose was short, wiry man. His grayish dress uniform was understated despite the colorful medals on his chest, but the scrambled eggs adorning his kepi was pretty impressive. Ryck tried to keep his eyes locked forward, but he kept looking at the legionnaire through the corner of his eyes. He’d read the general’s bio on the ceremony program, and it was pretty impressive. He’d served in seemingly most Legion conflicts over the last 30 years, commanding everything from a platoon to a division.

  The fact that the Legion had sent a three star to Alexander for the presentation was a message in and of itself. With the current tension between Greater France and the Federation, the Legion was showing that civilian leaders aside, there was a brotherhood of warriors. The cynic in Sams kept insisting to Ryck and Popo that the French were just trying to win over the Marines for political purposes.

  The three officers returned the salute and the captain brought them to order arms. There was a pause, then the adjutant’s voice rang out .

  “The Commandant de la Légion Étrangère, Général Alain Plessey, takes pleasure in authorizing the Croix de guerre des théâtres d'opérations extérieurs with bronze star to the following United Federation Marines for service in Tylaria on the planet Soreau on June 14, 366 Standard Reckoning:

  “Captain Prentice K. Davis.”

  Ryck had been told that the award was the equivalent to a Federation Battle Commendation Second Class. If a Marines was awarded a BC, even a Third Class, a citation describing the action was read before presenting the medal. Not so with the TOE, which was the nickname of the French medal. Each recipient was mentioned by name in the battle dispatch, but not to the detail as in a Federation award citation.

  A Legion lieutenant stepped up and presented the medal in a platinum box to the general as the flag officer stepped up to the captain. He pinned the white and red medal to the captain’s dress blue blouse. As he stepped back, Capt Davis saluted, which the general returned. The French general took a step to his right to stand in front of SSgt Hecs while General Praeter slid in front of the captain.

  “First Lieutenant Robert Lauer,” the adjutant called out as the same procedure was followed to pin on the medal.

  “Second Lieutenant Bertrand Nidishchii’,” “Staff Sergeant Hector L. Phantawisangtong,” “Sergeant Fabio Groton,” and “Sergeant Bobbi Samuelson” followed. Ryck had to keep from sniggering at Sams’ real name. Sams detested having a “girl’s” name, and only answered to “Sams.” It was as simple enough procedure to change a name. He could be “Duke,” “Butch,” “Rock,” whatever, but he refused, saying Bobbi was the name his father gave him. He wouldn’t let anyone use it to call him, though.

  “Sergeant Ryck Lysander,” the adjutant called out.

  The Legion general took a step to stand in front of Ryck. He took the medal and started to pin it to Ryck’s chest.

  “That was aggressive thinking, sergeant. Major Gruenstein was quite impressed. Rumor has it that you were originally planning to join the Legion back on your home planet of Prophesy,” he said quietly in his French-accented Standard.

  How did he know that? Ryck wondered. Standing at attentio
n, he stared straight ahead at the general’s forehead, not responding.

  “If you ever have second thoughts, I imagine we would have a place for you,” the general said.

  With the medal pinned on his blouse, Ryck saluted. A salute was an all-encompassing action, one that forced the officer to stop what he was saying to return it. It was the simplest thing for Ryck to do to change the subject.

  “Lance Corporal Laste R. Holleran,” rang out as the general took another step to his left.

  Ryck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. One general might have passed him, but now his division commander was in front of him. Ryck saluted, figuring that was usually a safe move.

  General Praeter had started to reach to shake Ryck’s hand, then when Ryck saluted, had to reverse course and bring his hand up in a salute. That done, he stuck out his hand once more.

  Ryck didn’t think he could shake hands while in the position of attention, but when a general officer offered his hand, it was best taken.

  “Good job, Ryck. You made the division proud.”

  What is with these flags? One knows about when I enlisted, and here another is calling me by my first name?

  The familiarity was making Ryck uncomfortable. General Praeter’s attempt seemed forced, and that was even more disquieting. Ryck was glad when Lips’ medal was pinned and the officer’s stepped back.

  “Detail, present, arms!” Capt Davis ordered.

  The three brass returned the salute, and the captain had them order arms, left face, and forward march. They got back to behind the formation, and within minutes, the battalion commander had turned the formation over to the sergeant major who dismissed the battalion.