Marines in the British Navy were, in general, hard men. The rigors of a life at sea in addition to the rigors of a life of battle inevitably created men who learned to handle the horrifying aspects of death with as much, or better, calm than could be expected of anyone.
In addition, those men serving under Captain Hornblower and his Lieutenants had the rare benefit of good officers that could, more or less, be trusted. Obedience and courage were easier to find when the Captain so often pulled miracles from the air, after all.
The fact that the French weren't falling wasn't an instant realization since aim was so often a touchy thing. The British fired. The French kept coming. The second salvo came.
But then one of the French soldiers took a musket ball to chest, fabric visibly blown out his back, and yet still reached out to clench fingers around the throat of the Marine who fired. The wet snap was nearly the end of all their valor. Their shots expended, the Marines fell back, stunned.
They fell back but the civilian man and woman were still crouched, having not yet found their feet for moving.
"Sword and bayonet!" Lt. Bush's roar and the drawing of his saber were emphasized by a flourish of the blade. The gesture lent weight to the command as he charged back in.
Alone.
For endless seconds, the men were too caught in shock to respond. They gave ground for another pace by simple inertia.
"Damn!" Styles shouted, weight visibly shifting. With a roar less literate than Bush's but a great deal more angry, he surged forward. The sailor had lost any weapon he'd brought in the initial clash and he now was armed with a cudgel of driftwood.
That broke the freeze. Matthews was only a few beats behind him and the Marines shook off the surprise to charge back as well.
"Mind your tongue, Mr. Styles!"
"...bloody..."
"Doctor!" The girl cried out, scrambling back on hands and knees as one of the French soldiers ignored the English and strode towards her.
"Just a minute..." the response was audibly tense despite an easy lilt.
The girl grunted as she dove to the side, picking up one of the fallen guns and brandishing it while still on her knees. "You just back off now!"
Even features, totally symmetrical and under different circumstances perhaps even considered handsome, didn't even register that she'd spoken. The soldier raised his blade and brought it down in a glittering half circle.
Sand flew and the girl fell back, instinctively shielding her eyes. The clang of metal against metal was the first clue that she was, perhaps, not going to die. The next was the sight of the one of the Englishmen, badly extended in what must have been quite a run to get to her in time, blocking the French sword with his own.
The sunlight made a stark profile of the Officer's features and woman froze, staring up at him.
"Move!" Lt. Bush snapped and pushed back on the French soldier as best he could from his positioning. The soldier didn't budge and Bush was forced to give way for better footing. If the girl hadn't been abandoned as a target, it would have been a near thing to even try to block a second strike against her. But? Even though the French were acting unnaturally, this one was apparently natural enough to leave off the harrying of a helpless woman in the face of a real enemy.
"...but!" the girl protested but moved back regardless.
The French soldier was already advancing, bringing the sword up again like a scythe rather than a sword. Clumsy. Inelegant. The opening left for his heart was a wide as a door.
Bush was not a fool. Any armor that could repel musket-fire would certainly repel a sword. So he twisted his arm, bringing his blade in a swing aimed solely to slice through that pale French throat. There was no blocking it.
There was also no blood. No scream. And the blade came to a jarring stop only a third of the way through.
The soldier, however, did not. He stepped forward, the metal of the sword screeching in protest as it was dragged through his neck, and grabbed Bush by the throat
Then he began to squeeze.
It went from pressure to pain in a second. There was no air to shout and the frantic punch he aimed for the French soldier's face gained not even a blink. Blood rushed in his ears and he could hear the girl screaming.
It took feeling the impact along the side of his body to realize he'd been dropped. Sparkles still danced in front of his eyes as he tried to stand up again.
"Oh, don't try to get up!" The concerned voice was accompanied by soft hands at his arm. He shrugged his shoulder hard, instinctively resisting the encumbrance when things were by no means safe. A sound of feminine frustration, much like a chuff was his reward and the hands tugging at his arm again, "Really, now! They are…well… not gone but….gone enough that you can take a moment, certainly!"
He stopped trying to shake her off, instead accepting that a civilian woman in a battle field would be a little clingy and that this must be endured.
Plus, the sounds of sword play had stopped and the world was fading back into clearer vision around him.
"More than a moment, I think!" It was his own voice coming from behind him but it was impossibly cheery. "Took me time to find the setting, mind you. But? Good old 234 always works…"
Lt. Bush stood up slowly, drawing himself up to his full height as he turned to take a good look at the smiling man in the frock coat who was pocketing what looked like a metal cylinder.
All around them, the French soldiers had collapsed where they stood. Fallen with limbs akimbo to the ground.
The man with William Bush's face smiled guilelessly, "Hello. I'm the Doctor."
"First Leftenant Bush," was the slightly rasping reply from the Officer. He looked to the remaining Marines and his lips thinned at their state or perhaps their diminished number. Blue eyes flicked back to the Doctor warily even as he raised his voice again, "Matthews, everyone back to the beach now. Bring the fallen."
"Probably a good idea, I fear. These fellows weren't exactly playing fair were they?" The Doctor crouched by the side of the Frenchman. "Let's take a look see. Polydenum alloy, wires, synth-skin. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make some very realistic looking robots. Especially for the eighteenth century."
"You mean they aren't real?" the blonde woman had moved, looking over the Doctor's shoulder now with all the signs of excited curiosity.
"No, they're real. They're also machines." the Doctor reached out a hand to the gaping hole made by the sword, "See? Careful. Might spark a bit there. That sword nearly did the job."
"I'll swing harder next time," Bush said with a razor edge of sarcasm, "Pick him…it up."
The Doctor blinked, looking back to Bush who had not strayed a single step, "Sorry, I didn't realize you were still here. What, then?"
"Pick up the soldier," Bush repeated, voice hard. "We're going back to the ship."
"Now, look here," the Doctor protested, "It's not that I'm a helpful fellow, but I can hardly see how I can be of assistance. Bad back, you see. And you don't need a land lover like myself mucking about on your vessel."
"Uh, yes. He can hardly..eerr…stand." Charlie chimed in a bit lamely. "And he gets seasick."
"Now." Bush said, blue eyes like flint. "Or you'll be shot."
The Doctor looked offended. "Well. When you put it that way," he turned, "Alright, Charlie. Give me a hand here."
It occurred to Charlie that it had been a very poor and very brief showing of evasion from the Doctor. In fact, it was the worst attempt to avoid capture that she'd ever seen from him.
He really was quite transparent at times.
I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who reviewed - I know I didn't respond at the time but you guys never let me forget that there were folks out there that wanted to read more.
I apologize for the delay - and even more? I apologize for any details I might have gottten wrong about Bush and the Marines. Part of the delay has been realizing that I've forgotten too much about that series and feeling like I've needed to watch it again to get everything right. I finally decided that it is better to get something out, even if a detail is off, and keep moving forward. Hope that suits!
Waterfall - Glad the reactions rang true to you. I didn't want to overplay it too much but also was worried I wan't making them freaked enough as well. Glad I got the balance right! As for Eight/Charlie? Weeelll I don't want to give everything away but there's definitely going to be some romance going on here. Even if just in the subtext ;)
Bluedragon1836 - Yay! I hooked you and kept you! Let me know if you are still hooked ;)
El Gringo Loco - I'm glad that it was flexible enough to catch you as a Hornblower fan. I'm trying to make sure that neither world is too heavily preferenced. Thanks for letting me know I'm on the right track.
Shezzawatto - Thanks for the feedback on the potential anachronisms. My husband is in the Navy and I actually struggled with a moment on that. Was billet not English verbiage? Was it too modern? Ship duty sounded too generic... In a way I'm glad to hear that assignment didn't fit right - I didn't think I had it myself. But I'm still not sure I know of what would have seemed right to me. If I find it! I'll update it. Thanks for taking the time to tell me :)
AngelOfTheMoor - Glad you like the idea of them together - and I hope that the interaction is living up to some of your early expectations. As a note? I checked IMBD for Paul McGann's height. It has him at 5' 8". Now, that is a few inches off from 6ft, but that's why I said nearly. I wouldn't have guessed he was that tall either! Thanks again for reviewing