Marine Read online

  Marine

  Joshua Dalzele

  Contents

  Untitled

  Untitled

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Also by Joshua Dalzele

  Afterword

  MARINE

  Terran Scout Fleet

  -Book One-

  ©2018

  Joshua Dalzelle

  Digital Edition

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real persons, events, or places are purely coincidental; any references to actual places, people, or brands are fictitious. All rights reserved.

  "New breed? Old breed? There's not a damn bit of difference so long as it's the Marine breed."

  —General Chesty Puller, USMC

  Prologue

  I hadn't even been born yet, the first time they came…the aliens. Even so, my family had been tied up in this shit from the very beginning. It's not something we talked about. In fact, most of my early years were spent trying to hide who we really were, hiding in plain sight under assumed aliases while every three-lettered bureau in the government looked for us.

  Perhaps aliens is too nonspecific a term given how many species we now know about. Also, the term is now considered xenophobic, or at least that's what we're told in school. So much has changed so fast that the whole world seems to be playing catch-up. All I know is that, a year or so before I was born, a small armada of spaceships arrived over Earth and began making bizarre demands, threatening to destroy our world unless we handed over a single man. Like I mentioned, I wasn't alive yet, but those who were still talk about the whole thing in hushed whispers despite the fact that interstellar spaceflight and even aliens living on Earth is becoming semi-routine. It was easily the most traumatic thing anybody had lived through in generations, at least from a psychological standpoint.

  That episode ended when yet another spaceship came to our rescue, but that's about the extent of what's known to the public. There is a lot of speculation on the Internet regarding the strange ship that arrived, far smaller than the invasion ships. Some think it was a top-secret American craft, others think it was stolen by the Americans and that's why the first ships showed up demanding we turn over someone named Jason Burke. It was all very strange, and the governments that were involved are still being tight-lipped about it. The incident soon faded into legend, and from that disaster, humans were eventually able to reverse engineer the wreckage and begin launching their own starships into space. Even then, we weren't ready for the second time they came.

  In an incident eerily similar to the first, an alien fleet arrived and held Earth hostage until someone swooped in to our rescue. This time it was a whole fleet belonging to a group who called themselves the Cridal Cooperative. They were able to chase the invaders—a species called the Ull—back out of the Solar System before they could do too much damage. As before, rumors swirled in the alternative media about high-level conspiracies and human collaborators, but nothing was ever substantiated by what I would consider a credible source. After kicking the Ull's ass off our planet the Cridal—who are actually a conglomerate made up of different species—stayed and began helping humanity not only reach for the stars but fix the mess we'd managed to make of our own planet. I was around fourteen years old at this time, so I remember it well.

  So, who am I? Nobody special.

  My name is Jacob Brown. I was born in Colorado and raised by my grandparents in a small cabin in the Rocky Mountains. My mother died in a car accident when I was very young. My father? Who knows where he is… I only met that asshole one time and that was enough. All I know is that he abandoned my mom before I was even born to go pursue his own selfish interests. My grandparents don't like me talking about him like that and say I'm being unfair, so I've made concessions and only talk about him like that when they're not around…if I bother to talk about him at all.

  I love my grandparents, but I hated living in such a tiny town with nothing to do and nobody to do it with. As soon as I was old enough, I drove myself to the recruitment station in Colorado Springs and enlisted in the United Earth Armed Services (UEAS), specifically the Navy. I figured as long as I'm leaving Colorado, I might as well leave Earth, too, and see just how far I could go. What surprised me was that when I took the requisite battery of tests, I was approached by someone in a United Earth Navy uniform and asked if I'd like to attend the Academy on Terranovus, Earth's first—and so far, only—colony world.

  Would I?!

  In as long as it took me to call my grandparents and tell them I was sorry and wasn't coming back home, I was whisked away in a shuttle up to the Aurora Orbital Platform to begin medical testing and processing before being loaded up on a starship bound for Terranovus.

  In hindsight, even someone as young and naïve as I'd been should have questioned how a slot at the Academy was just given out to some random guy when people all over the planet were cashing in major political favors and still weren't able to get their kids in. It's this lack of introspection that would come back to bite me in the ass but, at the time, I was convinced I was going to be an officer on a capital warship within the United Earth Navy. I wasn't at all concerned with the details.

  Granddad told me that my father was a rash man who seldom looked at the consequences of something before acting. Maybe we're more alike than I wanted to admit.

  Chapter 1

  "Brown! Move your fucking ass!"

  "Yes, sir!"

  Jacob Brown huffed and grunted as he scrambled up the hill. It was their second week in the field since being dropped off in the middle of nowhere and the platoon was being whittled down by the enemy a little each day as they pressed towards the objective. Platoon Leader Coulier had picked Jacob and two others to scout ahead and try to get an idea where the enemy might hit them next.

  Coulier had been full of swagger and bombast at the beginning of the mission, dead certain that under his leadership 3rd Platoon would meet their objectives quickly and decisively. That was twelve days ago. Now the beleaguered platoon leader had lost a quarter of his people while falling further and further behind schedule. The self-doubt was as plain on his face as his crooked nose, and as his confidence faltered, dissention reared its ugly head. The phrase 'nature abhors a vacuum' is never so apparent as when it's applied to a military unit whose leader has failed to lead. Every failure emboldened the squad leaders, and it was clear to Jacob that Coulier was now on borrowed time. They were going to frag the poor bastard, he could feel it.

  Knowing that the two remaining squad leaders were probably going to kill Coulier and assume leadership created quite the quandary for Jacob, doubly so now that he'd been handpicked for this special assignment. When he did the cold calculus, he figured there were really only two options available to him if he wanted to survive the coming coup: alert his platoon leader of the pending attack and help squelch the little rebellion before it started, or he could take Coulier out himself. Given his proximity to Coulier, sitting things out as a bystander wou
ldn't work. The others would be organizing now, with plans to take out the entire recon team as it returned.

  "What do you think we should do?" Coulier asked him once he'd gotten up the hill and lay down beside him.

  "You're the one calling the shots here," Jacob countered. "You tell us what to do."

  "I-I'm just not sure." Coulier looked down into the valley below, the indecision and fear etched on his features. Jacob looked away in disgust.

  "You'd better figure it out soon, sir," he said and pointed down to where a group of red lights could be seen bobbing among the trees. "It looks like they're organizing for another assault tonight."

  "We need to get back and warn—"

  "I don't think that's wise," Jacob said, his mouth going before his brain could stop it.

  "Why?" Coulier asked suspiciously. "Marcos and Guerra?"

  "Yeah," Jacob said quietly.

  "When?"

  "Probably tonight."

  "You're not in on it?"

  "Would I be telling you if I was?" Jacob silently cursed his carelessness. With one slip of the tongue he'd positioned himself as standing with Coulier. He consoled himself with the fact that he was on the right side of the UCMJ—the Uniform Code of Military Justice—in the matter as it was quite clear on the subject of mutiny. The charter had been adapted from the American military apparatus and modified for use in the United Earth Armed Services, but the basics like respecting the chain of command were still there. Jacob hadn't actually read through all the articles, but he was almost certain there were no provisions for offing your commanding officer when he proved to be an incompetent fool.

  "So, I just let these assholes hit my platoon again tonight just to save my own skin?" Coulier asked, a bit of steel creeping back into his voice.

  "No, sir," Jacob said. "But I think we might be able to kill two birds with one stone. Judging by the lights down there, it looks like they're sending a sizable force, so we have an advantage right now."

  "A rear attack with four people?" Coulier asked. "You're good, Brown, but you're not that good."

  "You're not tracking with me, sir," Jacob said. "They look like they're bringing most of their troops on this assault. Send Jenkins back to warn the platoon to be ready and then you, me, and Reedy press ahead to where we think their forward base is. It can't be very well guarded right now." A slow grin spread across Coulier's features as he caught on to what Jacob was suggesting.

  "If the platoon could hold them off again tonight and we achieve our objective—"

  "We'd snatch victory from the jaws of defeat," Jacob finished. "It won't be easy, but it's doable."

  "You swear you had nothing to do with what Marcos and Guerra were planning?"

  "Jesus Christ, Coulier…we need to focus on what we're about to do," Jacob said in exasperation. "Yes, I'd caught wind that they were planning on assuming leadership of the platoon during this deployment, but I had nothing to do with it. They never even approached me."

  "But if they had?" Coulier pressed.

  "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," Jacob said pointedly. "This mission is out in the weeds right now, but if you press ahead tonight, and we're successful, then I'll stand as a witness for you at their tribunal when we get back to base."

  "Fair enough," Coulier said. "I'll go back down to brief the others and get Jenkins moving. Your eyesight’s better than mine, so you stay here and observe the enemy's movements until I come retrieve you."

  "Yes, sir."

  Jacob held his position as Coulier shimmied back down off the outcropping. This far north the mountains were breathtakingly beautiful and, for just a moment, he felt a twinge of homesickness for the Rocky Mountains. He stared down at the narrow valley below, watching the enemy troops bumble their way through the darkness. They were so overconfident after the last handful of victories they weren't even trying to be quiet, laughing and joking as they crashed along. After a few more minutes, the sloppy column came to a halt, and Jacob's keen ears could discern the sounds of ration packs being torn open, probably the ones they'd stolen from his platoon two nights ago.

  When he checked the mission computer on his wrist for the local time, he saw it was a bit early for a midnight raid, so the enemy commander had likely called a halt well away from their camp for his people to eat and let Jacob's platoon settle in for the night. With eyes that saw better in the dark than those of his peers, Jacob watched as the enemy formation began to relax and become even more careless, if that was even possible.

  "Hmm…interesting," he muttered to himself. He looked down the path and didn't see anybody coming back up to relieve him, and he couldn't very well go all the way back to camp to report what he was seeing without risking the enemy moving on. There were some other possibilities, however, that would end this godforsaken mission and get them back to base sooner where there were hot showers, warm meals, and soft bunks.

  While Coulier was back down the hill fretting about his own people getting ready to dispose of him, the enemy commander was making increasingly bold moves to eliminate all of them before they could reach the objective. Coulier's platoon was a numerically superior force, but the more agile enemy was quickly evening the odds with their nightly raids. Jacob looked down and counted heads again and realized they must have only left three people guarding their base of operations. Would they ever get an opportunity like this again?

  "Screw it," he said, his decision made. He stripped off most of his gear save for his weapons, ammo, and a half-full canteen of water, leaving the rest in an orderly pile and drawing an arrow in the dirt pointing towards the suspected location of the enemy base. Coulier's oblivious ass would probably miss the arrow, but all of Jacob's gear left neatly behind would tell him that his scout hadn't been captured or killed.

  Satisfied with his preparations, Jacob stepped off the edge of the outcropping and dropped thirty feet to a ledge below. He hit the rock surface as softly as he could, absorbing the shock with his legs and not uttering a sound. While he froze to see if he'd been detected, he was already scouting out where his next jump would be to. From up top, he'd only been able to see this particular ledge but assumed there would be others. If not, he could make the jump all the way to the ground and not be hurt, but it would kick up a hell of a racket.

  Luck was on his side, and he was able to make two shorter hops down before his boots hit the thick carpet of needles that covered the ground. Jacob knelt and held absolutely still where he had landed, barely breathing as he listened for any sign his descent had been detected. Nothing. The troops to the north of him in the trees were still chattering away like they hadn't a care in the world. Their overconfidence and cavalier attitude rankled him. It was one thing to have their ass kicked so thoroughly over the last three days, but it was another for the enemy to show no respect or even a twinge of fear before another attack.

  For a moment, he considered revising his plan and attacking the disorganized cluster from the rear. He figured he could take out at least half a dozen, probably more, before they could mount any sort of defense. By that time, he could slip back off into the woods. The only thing that held him in check was knowing that his own forces further up the valley were likely no better prepared. If his strike prompted them to attack early, his whole platoon would probably be wiped out.

  "Fuck it," he grunted, moving off to the south towards the enemy encampment. He had a mission, and he couldn't afford to get bogged down indulging himself because of petty insults. Once he felt he was safely out of earshot, he broke into a run. With his keen vision, he flew through the woods, his feet seeming to barely touch the ground as he leapt over and dodged around obstacles. Now alone, he tossed off his normal restraint and pushed himself to his full speed. It was reckless, but he wanted to reach his objective while the enemy was unprepared.

  "Halt! Who goes—" That was all the sentry could get out of his mouth before Jacob slammed into him, driving him to the ground and cracking three of his ribs from the impact.
/>
  "Sorry! I didn't see you there."

  "Ungh! Screw you, Brown!"

  "Look at the bright side," Jacob said as he stood up and collected the sentry's weapons. "Once we're out of— What the hell?" A bright floodlight illuminated the section of forest they were in.

  "End exercise! End Exercise! End exercise!" an omnipresent voice boomed from the sky. "All cadets will secure their weapons and move to the extraction points indicated immediately!" The light went out, and Jacob could see it had been from a recon drone. Shit! Had it seen him running to the enemy base?

  "I guess this month's pointless torture session has come to an early ending," Cadet Bishop said, rolling to his hands and knees and holding his sides. "I fucking owe you for this, Brown."

  "I said I was sorry." Jacob shrugged, barely listening. His mission computer lit up with a new bearing and distance for his extraction point. He looked down at Bishop's wrist and saw that it was the same. Great. A long ride back to base with the enemy.

  "Whatever. Help me up," Bishop grumbled. "And after that, help me to the extraction point." Jacob wordlessly reached down and helped the injured man to his feet so they could begin the long walk back to the Jumper.

  Chapter 2

  "What the hell is going on?"

  "No idea, but it doesn't look good," Jacob said as he helped Bishop down out of the Jumper, the ubiquitous troop carrier used by the UEAS. Across the active ramp, there were seven military police and a gaggle of officers in dress blacks surrounding the ramp of another Jumper that had already touched down. The MPs were armed, of course, but didn't have their weapons trained on anyone and seemed relaxed.

  "It was that fuck up, Coulier," someone said from behind them. "Some shit went down last night and now a bunch of idiots will be explaining themselves at captain's mast." Jacob turned and saw it was Cadet Barya. The lanky, quiet Ugandan seemed to have a knack for getting information before everyone else and was more often right than not.