Lieutenant Colonel (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 6) (21 page)

The Wasp kept flying, but it was obvious that it was crippled as it swung about and wobbled out of sight.  Ryck was close enough to hear a dull roar as hundreds of mercs, a little more than a klick away, cheered. 

“What’s the BDA?” Ryck asked his AI.

“Thirty-two armored soldiers destroyed or out of action, 48 individual soldiers WIA or KIA.”

Thirty-two was fewer than he’d hoped for, but more than he had expected.

“Are we getting another run with the remaining Wasp?” Ryck asked Deshawn, already knowing the answer, but asking anyway.

“Negative.  Air has been shut down.”

Ryck had expected as much, so he asked instead, “What about the
Derne
?  We need some no-shit heavy support now.”

“Negative on that, too.  We’ve confirmed the mercs have Davids.  It’s not going to happen, Ryck.  Sorry about that.”

Ryck wanted to scream, to demand to speak with the task force commander, but he knew that would be useless.  There was no way the Federation was going to even slightly risk a capital ship in order to save a company or even a battalion of Marines.  And if the
Derne
dropped to the low orbit it needed to provide fire support, it could conceivably be hit by one of the Davids.

“XO, keep arguing with brigade.  See if you can’t dig something up that can help us,” Ryck ordered. 

He didn’t think brigade could do any more, but he wanted to keep trying.  He wanted to scream that if they failed to hold back the advancing mercs, the entire mission would fail.  But he had to command, not spend his time tilting at windmills.  If the Alpha Command got overrun, Sandy would have to take over, but in the meantime, he could argue with brigade.

Up ahead of Ryck, the unmistakable sound of a PICS firing echoed back to him.  The battle was joined as a cacophony of explosions reverberated between the blocks of buildings.  Ryck toggled his display to take in the main battle area.  As the enemy fired his weapons, his AI was able to consolidate a clearer picture of their disposition.  Golf Company looked pitifully small as the merc forces came into focus.  But they were hurting the mercs, and hurting them bad. 

The problem was that while the Marines were doing far greater damage, there were more mercs.  For each three mercs to fall, a Marine fell, and those numbers were not sustainable.

“What’s the status on the breach!” Ryck asked Sams, anxious to see how much longer they had to hold. 

Just over the wall, there were enough PICS and tanks to sweep up the mercs like so much refuse.  But they might as well have been on another planet if that breach was not opened.

“They’re about three-quarters of the way through.  But they might run out of heavy water, the team leader tells me, short of breaking through.”

“What?  I thought they had enough,” Ryck protested.

“So did they.  But the wall is taking more power than expected,” Sams said.

The Marine dissonator was essentially a commercial model painted olive drab.  Being man-packed, it didn’t have the power that the mounted models, such as what the civilian miners used on Acquisition to dig out the trapped Marines in the SOG complex.  And more importantly, it was not as efficient.

The dissonator worked by breaking the molecular bonds in a substance, compressing the space between molecules.  The more powerful the dissonator, the tighter it could compress the material, turning solid objects such as walls into tiny particles that could then be shoveled out of the way.  Originally designed for cutting tunnels, it was just as effective against fortifications.  With the small Marine dissonator, different variations in the material could require more energy and slow down the process.  And if the engineers ran out of heavy water, they’d have to use something else, and whatever that was, it would provide less power.

“How much time are they saying?” Ryck asked Sams.

“If they have enough heavy water, maybe 10 to 12 more minutes,” Sams told him.

“Ten to twelve more minutes?  It was only supposed to be 15 minutes all told!” Ryck shouted into his mic.

“I know, sir, but that’s what they tell me now.”

“I don’t care what you do, but get it done now,” Ryck ordered Sams before cutting the connection.

It wasn’t fair to Sams, but Ryck was not in a fair mood at the moment.  As he watched, blue after blue avatar grayed out or went light blue.  Golf was getting slaughtered. 

Another PICS Marine grayed out.  There were only four left to fight on—four out of 24 that had joined the fight.  Twelve more had stopped and been emplaced with Echo, the second line of defense.

Ryck keyed in the Golf command net.  He wasn’t going to interfere, but he had to know what was going on.  Captain Attleman did not sound like a man in desperate danger.  Ryck had yelled at Sams only a moment ago, but Chris Attleman sounded cool and collected as he gave his orders.  He’d already lost two of his lieutenants.  Joab Ling was still in the fight, along with the Golf XO.

Ryck tried to consider Ling as just one more Marine, one more asset to use.  But Joab was one of his boys, his posse.  A young PFC Ling had saved the life of an equally young and inexperienced Sergeant Ryck Lysander.

Ryck’s heart jumped when Attleman ordered Joab to take his remaining platoon and push around whatever C40 mercs were in front of him and attack the un-armored mercs flowing in trace.  It was a sound decision, but a suicide mission. 

Just like I gave the entire company a suicide mission
, Ryck acknowledged bitterly.

Ryck watched the few avatars from Ling’s platoon sweep around and find an opening in the merc’s line of advance.  He’d gotten that far, at least.  Ryck hoped he’d make his death as expensive to the mercs as possible.

“Captain Quezon, when can Gunny Bondi and the M54’s open up?” he asked his FSC.

The M54 was a small field gun, not really arty, but more of a direct fire weapon.  A direct hit from it would take out a C40 without a problem.  The guns took time to set up, so the two with Golf had not displaced forward and were now with Echo.

“The mercs are within range, but they need to be line-of-sight, and there are still Golf Marines between the mercs and the guns,” Captain Quezon said. 

“The mercs are more of a threat to the Marines than friendly fire.  I want the gun teams to open up the minute they have a target,” Ryck ordered.

He kept trying to think of what else he could do as he listened to Golf fight.  He considered pulling the remaining company back to join Echo, but they would be extremely vulnerable while displacing.  No, it was better that they kept up the fight and force the mercs to move around them.  And then in the merc battalion’s rear area, anyone left might be able to sow discord.

He was about to tell Captain Attleman to shift to the flanks and let the mercs pass, then hit them from behind as they clashed with Echo when the captain’s avatar went gray.  He’d fallen.  That left Joab Ling as the senior man of the greatly diminished company, and Joab was already hitting the unarmored troops behind the line of C40 soldiers.

Ryck felt a surge of pride as he could see the mercs scatter in front of the onslaught from what was basically a Marine squad.  Ten C40 mercs actually turned back to support their brethren, which was the best thing the Marines could hope for.  Every minute the mercs were delayed meant another minute to finish the breach.  Ryck had a brief spurt of optimism, but optimism unwarranted.  Thirteen Marines could not face a battalion, and one by one, they fell.  Joab was the second to last, and as his avatar went to gray, Ryck pushed that aside.  He’d mourn later when he had time.  He had another brief spurt of hope as the avatar flickered to light blue, but as it went gray again, Ryck forced himself to focus back on the battalion as a whole.

With only scattered Golf Marines still effective, the leading edge of the mercs swept down on Echo, led by over 50 C40 soldiers. Cut down by more than 50%, they still had more than enough firepower to blow through Echo, and then the rest of the battalion.

“Sams, what’s the status?  We need that breach opened!” Ryck passed over the P2P.

“Close, but the heavy water’s not going to last.  It’s almost gone.”

“What’s the next step?” Ryck asked.

“You’re not going to believe it, but piss.”

“What?  Did you say piss?”

“Yeah, that’s what Sergeant Tillimook says.  Like in
The Last Stand
,” Sams said.

The Last Stand
was a popular flick that gave a somewhat—well, barely—accurate account of the war between The European Union and Fremont back at the start of the 22nd Century, Old Reckoning.  In the flick’s climatic scene, the Captain Franz Klemper ordered his men to piss on their machine gun barrels to keep them from melting. 

“What about drinking water?  Wouldn’t that be better?” Ryck asked.

“Not according to the sergeant.  Piss will eventually clog up the reactor, but it will give a quicker burst of energy right now,” Sams told him.

“You’re not shitting me?”

“Sir, I’d come back on that statement in a heartbeat, but I don’t have it in me right now to be funny.  Piss is what it is.  I don’t understand the science, but that’s what he says.”

“And how much piss?” Ryck asked.

“We’re going to need about 20 more men.”

Leaving Sams connected, he brought up Captain McAult.  “Hog, get a platoon over to the engineers on the main breach.  Don’t ask why, but they’re going to have to piss.  Then get them back and ready to face the mercs.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” the Fox Company commander said, not even questioning the urination part.

The two M54’s opened up, their reports echoing back to the CP.  Both scored direct hits, taking out two of the mercs.  They managed to get off another round apiece before one of the guns was knocked out by the combined fire of the C40 soldiers.  The final M54 managed to get off one more shot before it too, was silenced.  They had taken out five of the armored soldiers, though, leaving 47 of them still in the fight.

The merc battalion and already taken some heavy casualties, and Ryck was slightly surprised that they were still advancing.  Sure, the Sylvington Brigade had a reputation to uphold, but merc companies rarely fought on after losing even a third of their forces.  By their very nature, they were never as dedicated to the cause as people who were invested in that cause, or any cause.

The remaining PICS squad started engaging the oncoming mercs.  The mercs had spread out off of Pitt Street, which was the main avenue of approach, but that merely funneled them to smaller side streets, enabling individual PICS Marines, augmented by the non-armored Marines, to hold them off.  Each PICS Marine was able to take out multiple mercs, but one-by-one, they were being overcome.  And when each PICS Marine fell, that left a clear avenue for the mercs to rush through the Echo Company positions.

“Sams!  We need that breach!”

“Almost there.  Five more minutes!”

“I don’t think we have that, Sams.  It has to be now!” Ryck said.

“Genghis, we have to stop them,” Ryck said, switching to the P2P with his Echo Company commander.

“We’re trying, sir.  But some are getting through.”

“Stop them, however you can,” Ryck ordered.

Some of the mercs were being stopped by grenade launchers, by anti-armor mines, and even by Toads, taking a page out of Ryck’s own playbook.  But not all of them.

Four C40 mercs blasted their way through an Echo fire team and were heading right to the CP, less than 50 meters away.  They would be within eyesight in a moment.

“Bert, they’ve broken through.  I don’t think we’re going to be able to hold them, but we’re going to go down fighting.  I just want you to know, it’s been an honor, sir, an honor,” Ryck passed to the brigade commander—and his friend. 

He cut off the connection before Bert could respond.

“OK, men, this is it.  Every Marine is a rifleman, and now we get to show these trumped-up mercs what that means,” he told the men in the Alpha Command.

Not one of them hesitated.  They picked up their weapons and turned to face the onrushing mercs who had just appeared where one of the roads led into the parking lot.  The CP was right in their path.

“Sandy, you’ve got command.  Get that breach open!” he passed to the XO, before turning off his comms.

Ryck took out his own Toad, ready to toss it as the C40s got within his throwing range.  He just hoped he’d get the chance as the mercs opened up with the pulse beams that were the weapon of choice against personnel.  Underpowered against hardened targets, they could be fired at a relatively fast cyclic rate, and they were very effective against unarmored targets—i.e., people.

Two meters to Ryck’s left, Captain Quezon fell.  Ryck fired his M99, knowing it would have little to no effect, but he was not just going to stand there.  Just a little closer, and he could launch his Toad. 

Ryck didn’t fear dying.  He feared dying without taking out one more enemy.  If a warrior’s position in Valhalla really did depend on how many enemy he’d killed, Ryck stood in good stead, but he wanted one more of the bastards.  Ryck may be a battalion commander, supposedly dealing with big arrows on maps and having his Marines fight, but when push came to shove, all Marines were born to fight.  Ryck had made his mark as a private on Luminosity, and he’d cemented it as a sergeant on Weyerhaeuser 23,
so this was nothing new.  He was just reverting to form.  And somehow, it filled him with a fierce joy.