Commandant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 8) Read online

  Then the situation caught up with him. Both his secured and personal PAs were flashing for his attention. He took a quick glance at the personal—there were four messages now from Ben. Ryck felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He wanted to respond—hell, he wanted to go home and hug his son right then, but he kept hesitating. With Hannah and the twins in the hands of the Federation, Ryck wasn’t sure how to handle things with Ben. He knew they needed to support each other, but something was keeping him from confronting the reality that it was only the two of them now.

  Grubbing hell, just do it!

  “Vivian, I’m going home. Please have my driver ready,” he said out loud, the office AI picking up his voice and sending his statement to his secretary.

  “I’ll have him ready, but there’s one more person waiting for you. A Colonel Sandy Peltier-Aswad?”

  Oh, shit! Sandy! I should have contacted him earlier, Ryck told himself as he wondered where he wanted his protégé.

  Sandy was still too junior for one of the major billets where he could really help Ryck out, but maybe junior aide would be appropriate. Sandy was buried in a staff job in J1,

  [7] and Ryck knew he’d jump at the chance to get into a position of more impact. And Ryck looked forward to it. Ryck and Sandy had not served together since the first battles of the Klethos War, and their relationship since then had been slightly strained. Ryck had given Sandy room after that, out from under his shadow so the younger Marine could make a name for himself. It hadn’t quite worked out that way for Sandy, but he’d made colonel, at least, based more on his past history of performance than on his more recent billets. But if they got out of this mess in one piece, after serving as an aide to the commandant, Sandy should be able to convey that into a command, putting himself back into the running for a star.

  Ryck stood up as Sandy came in, moving to meet him in the center of the office, hand outstretched. Sandy had come to a position of attention, but then he broke that to take Ryck’s hand and shake it.

  “Sandy, it’s good to see you. Really good.”

  “Thank you, sir. And I guess I should offer my congratulations on your new position,” Sandy said formally.

  Sandy’s distant attitude took Ryck by surprise, but he was now the commandant, he knew, and that changed things. Sandy might be an old friend, and he was Ben’s godfather, but he was still a Marine, and Ryck was the commandant now. Ryck knew it would take the by-the-book prim and proper Sandy a while to come to terms with that.

  “Well, I’m glad you caught me. I was just on my way out to see to Ben. I haven’t seen him yet, and with Hannah and the twins. . .” Ryck said before trailing off.

  “Yes, I heard, sir. I’m sorry about that, but I imagine your family will be fine.”

  “Well, yes, I hope so,” Ryck said in a subdued voice. “Well, anyway, I don’t have much time right this moment, but I’d like you to come onboard and be one of my aides. I know what you think of riding my coattails, but I could really use you, and I think that after all of this is over, you can work your way into a regiment.

  “In fact, why don’t you come with me now. We can discuss this on the way, and you can be there in case Ben doesn’t take what’s happened to his mom and the twins all that well.”

  “Sir, I don’t think I can do that,” Sandy said.

  “Oh? Well, of course, this is short notice, and you can’t just leave your office without telling them what’s going on. I’m not sure if I’ll make it back tonight. I don’t have all of this scheduling down, and I’ve been running on fumes for about 30 hours now. So why don’t you take care of things on your end, and we can start fresh in the morning?”

  “No, sir, with all due respect, I can’t.”

  “What? Are you still worried about those coattails?”

  “It’s not that, sir. I’ll be leaving in two hours with General Nottingham and the rest. To Alexander. I just wanted to tell you that personally, face-to-face.”

  Ryck stood looking at Sandy stupidly for a moment until what he said registered.

  “With Nottingham? You’re for the Federation?” he asked, astounded.

  “And so should you be, with all due respect. We swore an oath, you and I, to the Federation. And I thought men of honor upheld their word,” Sandy said, more than a hint of anger seeping into his voice.

  “Honor? Honor, you say? You do know the Federation was going to murder 12 billion citizens, don’t you?” Ryck shouted back. “And you think I should have let that happen?”

  “No, sir. That order was a mistake, and you did what you had to do. But that’s in the past, and now, to lead a revolution, to break your oath?”

  Ryck just stared at Sandy, at a loss for words as his protégé, or what now looked like former protégé, stared back at him defiantly.

  Finally, Ryck quietly asked, “So, after stopping the genocide, what was I supposed to do?”

  “Surrender, sir, and defend yourself within the system.”

  “And you think that would have worked? Did it work with the Justice? Did they even get a trial?”

  Sandy had the grace to look troubled at that, but he took a deep breath, and then said, “If it’s for the good of the Federation, then any sacrifice must be accepted.”

  “And just give up the Marines of 1/10, and the sailors of the Kravitch and Temperance? Genghis was one of those Marines, you know.”

  “Nothing would have happened to them, sir. The Federation does not punish subordinates for the actions of their seniors,” Sandy said, seemingly more in an attempt to convince himself rather than Ryck.

  “Once again, like the Justice?” Ryck said, scorn evident in his voice.

  Sandy stood at attention, his face getting redder and redder.

  He started to say something, stopped, took a deep breath, and then said, “The Justice was a sacrifice to law and order, to keep chaos at bay. Sad, but shit happens, sir, and they knew the risk when they enlisted,” he said, his anger rising to the surface and spilling out. “But what are the consequences? How many people are going to die now because of your ego? How many people are going to die because you wanted to save your own ass, and so you broke your oath?”

  Ryck stared at Sandy in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and a purple rush of his own anger threatening to take over him. He balled his fists as he took a step closer to Sandy, ready to lash out and crush the little cockroach onto the ground. He felt himself starting to lose it as he imagined his fist smashing into Sandy’s face when the slightest change of expression in that face stopped him. It wasn’t fear; it was almost satisfaction.

  And Ryck left his hands at his side. Sandy wanted him to hit him. Whether that was so that he could feel the righteousness of him abandoning Ryck, of choosing to oppose him, or if this had been planned out by Nottingham as just one little piece of evidence that Ryck was out of control, a madman bent on violence, Ryck had no idea. He suspected the latter, but regardless, he wasn’t going to give Sandy the satisfaction.

  He slowly leaned in until he face was centimeters from Sandy’s, then just as slowly, he said, “Colonel, I believe we are done here. You are dismissed.”

  With that Ryck spun around and marched back to his seat. He sat down and picked up his PA.

  “I said, you are dismissed,” he repeated when Sandy didn’t move.

  Ryck didn’t even look up, his eyes on his PA, even if he didn’t take in a single word of what was written there. With his peripheral vision, he watched Sandy slump ever-so-slightly.

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Sandy said before conducting an about-face and marching out of the office.

  “Vivian, please have Gunnery Sergeant Çağlar escort Colonel Peltier-Aswad to the gym,” he said. “The colonel is not to deviate from the direct route.”

  “The traitors are already being bused to the spaceport,” Vivian said. “Should he still go to the gym, or do you want him on one of the buses.”

  “Get him on a bus. And if the last bus has gone, get him to the spacepo
rt by donkey cart, if necessary. I want him off this planet now.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  Ryck stared blankly at his PA before throwing it against the wall, its almost indestructible body bouncing back to take a chip out of the side of his desk. His anger was still seething, but another emotion was starting to make itself felt. He’d lost his friend, someone he trusted. Hannah and the twins were being held by the central government. And now, he had a revolution on his hands, one where people were depending on him to bring about a successful conclusion, something that he hadn’t a clue yet as how to achieve.

  He might be the Commandant of the Marine Corps, something to which he’d long aspired, but he’d throw all of that away if he could just turn back the clock and get his family—and yes, Sandy, too—back.

  Chapter 9

  Ryck stared at the simple plastisheet on the table in front of him. It looked innocuous, just another routine piece of admin requiring a physical signature, but it caused a pounding in his head, a narrowing of his vision.

  Slowly, the signature “Amarin Frederick Kean Chandanasiri” appeared on the paper. A moment later, the retinal scan was shown as accepted. Light-years away at Prometheus Station, the home of the Third Fleet, Admiral Chandanasiri signed his copy of the Articles of Assumption, which were molecularly linked to the copy in front of Ryck.

  There were few documents that have stood the test of time as turning points in human history: the Summa Theologica, the Magna Carta, the US Declaration of Independence, the Federation Charter, the Munich Accord, and the Writ, coming to mind. Ryck didn’t know if the short declaration on the plastisheet in front of him would hold the same weight or if it would be relegated to a footnote in history about a foolhardy and failed attempt at fundamental change.

  “Sir, Admiral Chandanasiri has signed his copy,” Major General Talliman Hayes said needlessly.

  Ryck picked up the stylus and looked at the gathered men around him. All of the flag and command sergeants major at the Headquarters, Sams, Hecs, Jorge Simone, and five randomly selected junior Marines were there to represent the Corps. Brian Plummer and his senior staff from the Kravitch were there as representatives from the Navy. The governor and his staff were gathered together, representing the civilian population. And Major Titus Pohlmeyer, the Confederation of Free States Army, was the loan witness from a foreign government.

  The news teams, three in all, couldn’t be ignored as they jockeyed for position to best record what was about to happen; whether for posterity or a future trial, Ryck didn’t know.

  Ryck hesitated. Up until now, there had been no direct action between the loyalist Federation forces and the new government, or “Evolutionary forces,” as they were now calling themselves. (“Not revolution, evolution!”) Signing this document, though, was essentially a declaration of war. There would be no turning back. And Ryck didn’t want war. He knew the consequences of war, the horrors, far more than most, and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that people were going to suffer, and people were going to die.

  Most of all, though, Ryck didn’t want to lead a revolution, for that was what it was, despite all the play on words the experts were bandying about. He could fight battles. That was what he had been trained to do throughout his career. But being the co-head of a government scared him shitless.

  What do I know about government?

  Just 30 minutes before, he’d received a briefing about the banks. Most of the largest banks in the Federation had their headquarters on Earth, and they had already cut off funding to the planets that had come out siding with the new provisional government, or what was about to become the provisional government as soon as Ryck signed the document. The few banks that had promised to work with the new government did not have the financial wherewithal to support them, to fund a revolution. The whole thing made his head ache.

  He took a quick glance and Titus Pohlmeyer. Ryck was going to have a one-on-one with the major right after the signing ceremony—they needed Confederation support.

  He knew he had to sign, but his brain screamed at him “No!” The consequences were just too great. Part of him realized that his hesitation as he looked at the gathered men had a dramatic effect for the news teams to record, showing the import of the act, but any more hesitation could turn that into someone unsure if this was the right step.

  Which was true. He was unsure. But the die had been cast, and he couldn’t reverse course. It was too late for that. He had to forge on, seemingly positive that this was the right—and legal—course of action.

  “In accordance with Section 3(a), paragraph 1 of the Federation Charter, whereas the current government has contravened Section 1, Paragraph 1 by ordering the murder of the planet Ellison and all Federation citizens therein, and as the co-representative of the people’s military forces, I am ordering the dissolution of the Federation Council and the imposition of martial law and formation of a provisional government until a new government can be formed,” Ryck said in the speech crafted by the Third Fleet staff judge advocate.

  Ryck lowered the stylus and signed his name, knowing that his signature would be appearing simultaneously on the second copy at the Third Fleet headquarters. He leaned forward to the small pick-up in the lower right-hand corner of the sheet, and a small light flashed green indicating his retinal scan was accepted.

  Ryck lowered the stylus and tried to look confident in front of the news teams.

  The federal government had just been toppled by a coup d’état. That was the easy part.

  Now if they could only get the old government, along with the bulk of two Navy fleets, most of the FCDC, and the 13% of the Marines who sided with them to go along with it.

  Chapter 10

  “They’re in good health and are not being mistreated,” Major Pohlmeyer told Ryck as the two sat alone in his office. “But they’re still not being authorized any communications.”

  The Confederation had pushed the Brotherhood to force a Red Cross visit to Hannah and the twins, who were being held in a secure location that the Red Cross could not—or would not—reveal. Ryck had hoped to be able to make a call, but he wasn’t surprised. The feds were not about to give Ryck that peace of mind, but they couldn’t really defy the Brotherhood request given that the Federation, which they obviously claimed was still them, had signed the UAM

  [8] Retained Persons Convention which required access to prisoners.

  “I wish I could give you more, and we will continue to work on it, sir.”

  “Thanks, Titus. I really do appreciate it, and I am glad to know they’re not being mistreated, at least,” Ryck replied.

  “Vivian, please send in the rest,” Ryck said aloud, anxious to move on to something else.

  Bert, Prince Jellico, Hecs, Jorge, and Tomtom Copperwait came in and sat down. Ryck had sent General Huckmaster and an ad hoc staff to Prometheus Station for a series of meetings with Admiral Chandanasiri (who was sending his own team to Tarawa), so this was the brain trust of the Marines at headquarters, and Ryck wanted them to hear what Major Pohlmeyer had to say.

  “The first order of business, sir, concerns planet busters,” the major began.

  That’s the first order of business? We don’t control planet busters, Ryck thought.

  “We are letting the Brotherhood take the point on this. . .” the major began.

  Which is what you have been doing with almost everything, Ryck thought. Keeping yourself somewhat neutral. I hope that is a ploy and not fact.

  “. . . and they have given the Council what could be an ultimatum that no planet busters will be used in any potential conflict.”

  “That’s fine with us,” Ryck said. “We’re not the ones who were about to kill off Ellison.”

  And Ryck was fine with that. The Council controlled far more planet busters than what were in the Third Fleet Armory, and as a ground pounder, Ryck had a particular aversion to a weapon that could wipe out Tarawa, for example, with the Marines powerless to stop it
r />   “We need your agreement to that, sir. In writing.”

  “But I don’t control any planet busters. We’re Marines,” Ryck said. “You need to talk with the admiral.”

  “We did, but you are the face of the revolution, I mean evolution, sorry about that. And we need you to take the lead on this. The Council is balking despite some heavy-handed threats from the Brotherhood, saying that you have not agreed yet.”

  “What, they think we’ll interdict Earth?” Tomtom asked with a snort.

  Major Pohlmeyer said nothing, but the expression on his face was a giveaway.

  “They’re saying that?” Bert asked incredulously.

  “Let’s just say that they are using that threat as a reason not to sign any binding agreement to that effect,” the major said.

  “But—” Tomtom started only to be cut off when Ryck held up his hand, palm out.

  “It’s ridiculous and pure Council gamesmanship, but we would never use them, so I don’t have any problem with it. Major, give me what you want, and I’ll sign. I don’t want to waste any more time on this sideshow.”

  The major smiled and held out a docpad. Unlike the Articles of Assumption, this was not something that needed to be in a physical form. Ryck took two minutes to read over the document. He knew that he should give it to the SJA to review, but he didn’t want to waste any more time on something that would never happen anyway. He signed and scanned, and it was done.

  “With that out of the way,” the major said, bringing up something on his PA, “I’d like to confirm just who has declared for the provisional government. If I may?” he asked, pointing to the screen on the wall just past the end of the table.

  Prince reached under to toggle the screen open, and the major’s list popped up with all the Federation planets and military units. They were listed in four columns: Loyalist, Provisional Government, Undeclared, and Neutral.

  Ryck couldn’t help but grimace at the lists. The Loyalist list was the largest, with 128 planets and major stations as compared to 87 planets and stations declaring for the provisional government. Most of the planets, though, to be blunt, would have no vital impact on the conflict one way or the other.