Forged to Lead (Jack Forge, Fleet Marine Book 3) Read online

  “You are safe. The lights are all out.” Jack knew they’d be coming back on at any moment.

  “We were on Kratos,” she said.

  “Shh,” Jack whispered. He held his lips so close to her ear that they touched it lightly. “They will ask you what happened to Commander Finch. I told them he went missing. As far as we know, the Chits took him. Don’t say you saw him. Okay?”

  Silence.

  “Okay?”

  The dark and the silence. The flashing of a light somewhere at the far end of the medical bay caught Jack’s attention.

  “Sarah, can you hear me?”

  The voices from the far end of the med bay were loud and anxious.

  “I thought you were still guarding her,” said one Marine.

  “No one’s been in or out,” the other said.

  The flashlight beam flashed into the compartment, the light scattered by the many panels of translucent composite. Jack looked down and saw Reyes, her eyes closed and a smile on her rosebud lips.

  Jack slid to his knees, head next to hers. “Don’t tell them we saw Finch.” He crawled back to the floor-level cabinet and climbed back inside. He pulled the door shut just as the lights burst to life, flooding the med bay with its stark light.

  “There,” a Marine guard said. “She’s still there.”

  Jack climbed carefully and quietly back into the dark world between the bulkheads in the hidden spaces of the Scorpio.

  12

  Pretorius stood before the holostage on the command deck. The holostage standby image rotated in front of him, an image of the Scorpio. It had been captured when the Scorpio had first left the construction facility in orbit around the home world, Eros. The Scorpio was, at the time, the newest and most powerful destroyer in the fleet. It was fast, able to cross from one side of the system to the other in one Eros day. She was heavily armed with port and starboard batteries of high-density shot cannon, deploying a range of high-density shot warheads from kinetic, incendiary, high ex, and antimatter payloads. The combat drone launch tubes were housed on the lower hull while the upper hull was dominated by the four high-energy laser cannons.

  The Scorpio and her eleven sisters, together with the four massive carriers, were thought to be the ultimate defense against the newly discovered Chitin threat. That was until the carrier Crown was destroyed along with its flotilla of frigates and corvettes. Then the Libra was lost. Then the Gemini.

  The Scorpio had seen its share of battle. Pretorius balanced the need for aggression with the need for survival. The Scorpio had used its speed as much as it had used its weaponry. Pretorius had mastered the hit and run. He had Chitin kills on his jacket. A dozen Krakens had met their end at the hands of Pretorius. The feather in his cap was the destruction of the Chitin Hydra at the battle of Hades North. He’d fought the battle at high speed, moving in and out of range of the Chitin focused plasma arc and he’d concentrated his fire on the Hydra, ignoring the Kraken infiltrators. He’d been boarded for the first time during that battle and lost many crewmen to the Chits that day, but he’d scored the fleet’s first kill on a Chitin Hydra. His tactics that day had been shared with the destroyer fleet as the primary method of engagement with a Hydra-class vessel.

  The Scorpio that rotated on the holostage in front of Pretorius was not the battle-scarred vessel under the captain’s feet right now. The engine reactor was in need of an overhaul. It was operating at only sixty-eight percent efficiency. The Scorpio’s port-side battery was operating at only forty percent. Several cannons were out of action for the want of basic replacement parts. They had subsequently been cannibalized of other parts to service the remaining operational cannons. Pretorius knew he could not take on a Hydra and win now.

  His starboard battery was fully functional, but he was short on crew to properly serve both batteries. He could fight with one side or the other. The high-energy laser was underpowered. It was still powerful enough to slice through a Chitin hull, but the range was so reduced that it would be a point-blank battle, one Pretorius knew the Scorpio would not survive.

  The combat drone tubes were fully operational, but the supply of drones was limited. The Scorpio had one big fight left in her before she would have to return to port for rearmament and repair. Pretorius knew that fight was coming soon. He stood patiently in front of the holostage and waited for Group Captain Chen Li to appear.

  Pretorius hoped the other ships in the assembled group were in better fighting condition than the Scorpio. No single destroyer had seen as much action as the Scorpio, none that were still in operation. The Scorpio was joined by two other destroyers, the Aries and the Pisces. Pretorius knew their captains well and he was happy to be alongside such good captains. The carrier leading the group was the Monarch. Her commanding officer was Group Captain Chen Li. She was cautious in battle as well as in politics. She had risen quickly from captain of a frigate, through Fleet Headquarters, and onto the bridge of the Monarch. At Fleet Headquarters, she had masterminded a successful attack on a series of Chitin asteroid facilities. She had leapfrogged some longer serving captains to the position of group captain, but her political and diplomatic skills, as well as her coldhearted military skills, had kept her in favor with her subordinates as well as her line commanders.

  “Incoming message, Captain,” Commander Chou informed Pretorius. “It’s Group Captain Li aboard the Monarch, sir.”

  “Put it on the holostage, Mister Chou.” Pretorius straightened.

  The holostage flickered into life. Group Captain Li appeared in the center of the stage from the hips up. To either side of Li appeared smaller images—Captain Janie Lauafa of the Aries and Derrie Baskin of the Pisces.

  “Captains,” Li said coolly. “Fleet has assembled us for an operation against a Chitin facility on Proxis, the closest moon to the gas giant Penthus. Success in this operation will limit the Chitins’ operational range in the system and relieve pressure on our convoys from the outer asteroid cloud.”

  The holostage image flickered and changed to a view of the entire planetary system. Li, Lauafa, and Baskin appeared at the side of the display.

  “As you can see,” Li said, “the two gas giants, Penthus and the Chitin home world Zelos, are currently on opposite sides of the star from each other.”

  “We know the Chitins have a drydock facility on this moon.” The image zoomed in on Proxis, the inner moon of Penthus. It was a black moon of hard crystalline rock. “They service their deep space craft here, including their Leviathans. This drydock has allowed the Chits to extend their operational range across the entire system. If we can remove the Chitin presence around Penthus, we will push the Chitins back to the far side of the system, restricting their movements and freeing ours.”

  The image of the system disappeared to be replaced by the group captain.

  “I want full inventory and battle capability reports by end of second watch. Full armament readiness by third watch. We progress to our target at low velocity at the top of first watch. Transmitting battle plan and zero hour to you now.”

  Pretorius knew he was here to fight. He didn’t need to be asked nicely. He was motivated as firmly as any person in the fleet, but it was unusual not to hear some introductory pleasantries between senior officers on an operation. Then, it seemed that Li hesitated for a moment.

  “I know you are seasoned veterans, so I am honored to be leading this carrier group.” Li paused. “You have your orders.”

  The image of Li flickered away, leaving Lauafa and Baskin on Pretorius’s holostage. The three captains smiled and greeted each other warmly. They all knew each other personally and by reputation. Between the three of them, they had more Chitin kills than the rest of the destroyer fleet put together.

  “Good to see you both again,” Pretorius said. And as the three caught up on news from home, news of the war, of friends and families, and as they laughed with each other, Pretorius knew he was going into battle again.

  13

  The latest VR tr
aining session had a fresh feel to it. The scenario was not some generic battle situation, but had the feel of truth about it. The battlefield was a moon orbiting Penthus. Jack could see the huge gas giant filling the sky. The surface of the moon was a hard, glass-like rock, shot through with cracks and deep channels. The surface was difficult to walk across, even more difficult to crawl over.

  Jack pulled off the VR helmet and clambered out of his pod. He was aching and sweaty. The scenario had been run several times this watch already. He’d once again completed an assault on a fixed position. His squad approached using stealth and natural cover concealment on one run-through, and on another, he had employed a rapid frontal assault. This last run, he’d used fire and maneuvers to advance on the position. He was outnumbered and out-gunned. He’d completed his objective and destroyed the target, a simulation of a Chit structure, but every time, he’d lost all of 6th squad. He had also been killed after the final destruction of his target.

  Whatever the Marines were preparing for was going to be murder, sheer and utter murder. Jack wiped the sweat from his brow, grabbed his sweater, and left the VR suite. He was on a one-watch liberty. He wandered toward the med bay.

  The corridors were the busiest Jack had ever seen them. Almost every corridor had a crewman walking one way or another. One corridor was blocked as a group of crewmen maneuvered a massive trolley holding a stack of four combat drones. The ship was clearly preparing for an operation.

  He was forced to find a way around the blocked corridor. The sweat had cooled as he walked and he started to feel cold. He pulled the sweater from around his waist and pulled it on. After a few more corridors, and few encounters with crewmen and one flustered junior officer, Jack reached the med bay’s wide double-doors.

  Torent was sitting on the edge of his bunk. He had one arm in his jacket and his new prosthetic arm out. He appeared to be having difficulty getting dressed.

  Jack walked toward Torent’s compartment. He looked along the bay toward Reyes’s compartment. She was sitting up in bed. Jack’s heart leapt at the sight of her up and out of the coma. Standing next to Reyes, Jack noticed the black jacket of the Fleet Intelligence agent, Visser.

  Reyes ignored Jack.

  “Help me get this arm in here, Jacky,” Torent said as Jack stepped into his compartment. He couldn’t take his eyes off Reyes.

  “Jack,” Torent said more loudly. “Don’t stare, Jack.”

  Jack turned toward Torent. His friend was right. If he was going to hide the truth about Commander Finch, it was better if he showed as little interest in Reyes as possible. If he seemed interested in her, it might be because he was interested in what she knew about Finch’s disappearance. He had told Reyes not to say anything about it. As far as the fleet knew, she had not seen him on Kratos at all.

  Jack took hold of Torent’s jacket and helped him put his arm in the sleeve.

  “How’s the arm?” Jack asked, desperate to look at Reyes.

  “Strong. I’ve got it under control, sort of.”

  Jack pulled the jacket up onto Torent’s shoulders.

  “You free to come back to sixth squad?” Jack asked.

  “Worried I’ll take your job?” Torent replied.

  “No.” Jack risked a glace toward Reyes. His eyes met those of Agent Visser. He turned his head casually back toward Torent. “There is an operation coming up. If you can stay in med bay, you might be able to sit this one out.”

  “Sit it out?” Torent said. “Not a chance. I overheard the doctors talking.” Torent climbed off his bunk. “They had medical supplies sent over from the Monarch.” Torent gave Jack an excited look. “A carrier, Jack. A kravin carrier. Come on.” Torent walked out of his compartment. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Jack asked, following Torent.

  “The hangar deck. There’s a porthole in the launch doors.”

  “And what about it?” Jack asked.

  “We can get a look at her.”

  Jack looked back toward Reyes one last time. “Her?” Jack asked

  “The Monarch. We can get a look. You ever seen a carrier before? No, didn’t think so. Come on.” Torent marched out of the med bay.

  Jack hurried to catch up. A carrier would be something to see, but there was only one thing Jack wanted to see. And she was being questioned by Agent Visser.

  14

  The hangar deck was a hive of activity. Crewmen and tech drones were prepping the Scorpio’s compliment of tactical drop ships. There were thirty-six TAC boats, one for every squad of a full battalion. Jack felt the pre-operation jitters grow in him.

  The presence of a carrier and the preparation of the TAC boats meant only one thing: joint operations. The carrier’s primary role was to support the destroyers, provide fighter cover and fire support. The TAC boats were designed for Marine landing and ground operations. This was not going to be some raid on an asteroid. This was going to involve ground assault, space assault, fighter defense and attack. This was joint operations.

  Torent seemed untouched by the activity around him and unfazed by the possibility of an imminent attack on a Chitin stronghold. He dashed along the line of TAC boats, moving from one hangar door to another, looking through one porthole after another.

  “There she is,” he called excitedly. “What a ship. Look at the size of it.” Torent stopped at a small porthole. He pressed his face against it and looked out, condensation from his eager breath misting up the small window. “Look at her, Jacky. Just look.”

  Jack stepped up to the small porthole in front of him and looked out.

  The Monarch dominated the view, set against the distant gas giant. The Pisces and the Aries, each a kilometer long, were dwarfed by the massive carrier. A dozen points of light flitted about the Monarch from the engine flare of the patrol fighters.

  Jack pulled back, startled, as a corvette came past. The corvettes were lightly armed and extremely fast with the range of a destroyer. The six corvettes in line formation held position between the Scorpio and the Monarch

  “Can you make out the names on those destroyers?” Torent asked.

  Jack could see the letters painted on the nose section of the destroyers, but they were too far out for him to read. He could make out the batteries of cannons along the side of the destroyers, massive snub-nosed barrels capable of pouring out a deadly hail of shot.

  The Monarch’s side was dominated by the massive fighter decks. Between each deck was a battery of cannon and combat drone launch tubes. The upper and lower sides of the Monarch each supported four sets of high-energy laser cannon.

  The flotilla of craft was an immense show of fleet power, and Jack knew there was one more weapon in this arsenal. Hidden within the composite hulls of these craft was the fleet’s most deadly and versatile weapon. The Fleet Marines.

  “Those Chits are going to get an absolute battering,” Torent said, moving to the next porthole.

  “We’ll see,” Jack said. The flotilla was powerful. He hoped the enemy they were going to fight wasn’t even more powerful. A single Leviathan was more than a match for a carrier. The Crown had been lost to a Leviathan in the first months of the war. Since then, the fleet had avoided contact with those Chitin craft.

  “Where do you think we’re going?” Torent stepped back. “I heard some crewmen say we are heading to Zelos.”

  “The Chit home world?” Jack took one last look at the Monarch. “I hope not. We wouldn’t last two minutes, and we’d need ten times the ships.”

  Torent walked over to Jack. “Can we beat them, Jack?”

  Jack sensed the anxiety in Torent’s voice. Placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, Jack looked him in the eye. “I don’t know, Sam. I know they won’t beat us.”

  Torent looked out of the porthole again. “The carrier, destroyers, corvettes, Marines… Wherever we are going, it’s going to be a kravin big fight.”

  “We’ll do our job, Sam.” Jack pulled Torent away from the porthole. “Let’s get out of here. We’
ll get our fight soon enough. No need to think about it now.”

  15

  The mess hall was full, with every seat taken by members of Scorpio Battalion and the ship’s crewmen and women. Jack and Torent picked their way through the crowd toward the familiar faces of Cobra Company and 6th squad.

  The room was filled with the smells of fresh cooked meat and fried roots. The tables were covered in food and jugs of juices.

  “No ration blocks today?” Jack said. He spoke to a Marine from one of the other companies. “Fresh food? Where were they hiding that?”

  The Marine turned. Smiling. “They sent it over from the Monarch. Giving us a good sendoff. Can’t go into battle on a ration block.”

  “Must be close to zero hour,” Torent said, grabbing a meat-filled bread roll from a stack on one table.

  The food tasted good. The noise in the mess hall sounded good. Most of the battalion knew what lay in store. Most had seen action. The few new recruits who hadn’t been in combat were nervous and eager for it. There wasn’t a single new recruit who wouldn’t be a seasoned veteran after one second of actual combat against the Chits. Simulations were useful, but knowing that the fight was for real sharpened the senses. It made some bold, and others afraid. Some ran into their first action with such enthusiasm that they put themselves needlessly in danger. Those who shrank from the fight and hoped the fighting would die away put their squads in danger. A steady and level-headed approach was the only way to succeed. Victory lay in a determined, intelligent approach to the chaos of battle.

  Jack sat down at a table with 6th squad. Torent was greeted warmly, his prosthetic arm a point of interest. Torent showed it off. “I’m still getting used to it,” he said.

  Bubble turned to Jack. “Boss. Tell Terry. He owes me credits.”

  Terry poured a cup of juice and laughed. “I’ll give them to you when we get back from the operation.”