Enemy Front

by T. E. Butcher

  “The former Operations chief, Varujan Apostu,” Emma said. “Shortly after he was fired by Marshall Hausnerr, he announced he would run against President Reinhardt in the elections this fall.”

  Jon nodded. “Our dossier says he’s every bit the uniformed politician Skara cultivated but Hausnerr despised, so he would have it out for Hausnerr because of the blow to his pride,” he said. “That being said, I don’t believe the traitor is likely to be him.”

  “And your reasoning?” Starnes asked. Jon held up three fingers.

  “His flair for the dramatic and pride would mean if he did in Hausnerr, he’d want to make it public, and he’d want to know it was him,” he said. “Secondly, he’s one of the few candidates in the Modern Justice Party to advocate for the unconditional surrender of our enemies rather than an armistice, something a Union puppet wouldn’t likely do, and finally, form what I’ve read, it seems like he’d rather win the war on his terms then rub it in.”

  “That being said, someone near him could have Union connections,” Starnes said. “Possibly through one of our other suspects.” He looked at his own notes. “Including, the other generals that walked out, the former signals chief Gergő Gulyás, the former personnel chief and her assistant who recently took her spot, Iveta Suchánková and Chiara Weinheber, the plans chief, Fabio Holz, and finally a guy that remained, the intelligence chief Uvis Aigars and his deputy Manuel Stock.” Starnes shook his head. “That’s way too many suspects in a high level position or who have held a high level position.”

  “The former Personal chief is another interesting suspect,” Jon said. “She would have had access to demographic and medical information, something we know the Union values as they’re attempting to expand the tuber gene pool.”

  “But would she have known Hausnerr was visiting 9th division headquarters?” Emma asked. “And if she did, how when she’s out of the service?”

  “Maybe she still talks to her former deputy,” Starnes offered. “Lord knows it’s a country club with flag officers. Any casual conversation between them could be an InfoSec violation.” He looked up from his tablet. “Does the way Markos uncovered this shed any light on who the culprit is?”

  Emma shook her head. “Only that an encrypted message entered the server farm belonging to the general staff offices, we’ve generated the list of suspects based on profiling.”

  “That doesn’t help us much,” Starnes said as he lowered his datapad. “So what are we to do?”

  “Interviews,” Emma said. “We put them on notice, interrogate them, make them think we’re onto them from the get go.”

  “This is where Varujan Apostu becomes a problem,” Jon said. “If we interrogate him and accuse him of being a Union spy, it looks like president Reinhardt is trying to crush a political rival ahead of the election.” He looked from Emma to Starnes. “If he is the Union spy, we run the risk of handing the election to him if we move against him openly. That would be catastrophic for your country.”

  “Then we’ll be subtle,” Emma said. “Tell him we caught wind of an assassination plot against him. If he’s the spy, he’ll know its bullshit, but if he refuses our “investigation” of his campaign, then he looks suspicious.”

  10

  It all seemed so wrong. Bartonova pushed her Tiger forward, towards the hill she’d failed to take before. Far below the heights sat the city of Turhita, the current objective of her regiment, but in order to seize the city, they needed the heights. Despite pushing her panzerter, the other panzerters in formation walked. Behind them, the IFVs crawled along.

  They’d reinforced the defenses of the hill. Now they had artillery dug in to the base of the hill. Last time, guns like that tore apart our black platoon. We need to do something about them now. She brought her magnetic long rifle to bear. The super dense slugs tore into the Union positions and smashed their big guns.

  The other panzerters opened fire, forming a wide firing line focused on the hill. Amid the high explosive shells and high velocity slugs, they effectively pinned the unionists on their hill. Using her range finder and GPS, she got a grid for the entrenchments on the hill.

  “Brave6, requesting fire mission,” she said over the command net. “Transmitting grid, fire at will!” The fire control center wasted no time in responding.

  “This is FDC 2-37, hold position, simultaneous barrage is on the way,” a tired sounding male voice said. Simultaneous barrage? Over the roar of their own guns, she made out a distant, intense rumble. “Shot out.”

  As if multiple trains passed by, something rushed overhead. Then the hill vanished. Or rather, Bartonova could no longer see it under the carpet of smoke and debris from multiple shells striking the hill at the same time. “Splash out,” she said, stunned.

  She moved her people up the hill. They encountered little resistance after the furious bombardment. The few union soldiers the infantry found were in little shape to fight back. With their position secured, Bartonova asked her panzerter platoon to secure the Northern approach. As for herself, she took a knee and took aim with her long-rifle.

  The rest of the regiment was rushing towards the city center. Bartonova used her rifle to hammer pockets of resistance while relaying information to the regiment. We only have a couple hours to take this city back, otherwise they’ll dig in and we won’t be able to use the bridges in it. As enemy panzerters attempted to cross one of the said bridges, she began picking them off when she noticed movement north of the city.

  Shifting her focus and her range finder over, she noticed another wave of unionists moving into the city. Damn, that looks like a ten, no, twenty tinhats and about a couple dozen other vehicles. At first she went for her rifle, but then decided against it. They were out of range and would probably scatter if she did hit anything. Instead, she got a better idea.

  “FDC, Brave 6, we’ve got a battalion sized element moving on the city,” she said. “Requesting airstrike.” She drummed on her leg as she waited for the FDC to respond. Sure, he probably had to jump through a few different hoops to authorize a strike that big, but it seemed urgent. Sure is easy for them to take their time when they’re not out here.

  “Roger Brave 6, airstrike en route,” the fire control guy said. “Requesting grid.” Bartonova responded with the approximate grid of the advancing units and waited some more. She didn’t have to wait too long.

  They came in two waves. The first wave, presumably escorts, dive in the unionists, blasting them with rotary cannon fire. The second, interdictors by the look of their pregnant airframes, raced past the formation. For a moment, it papered as though nothing happened. Then a thousand small explosions rocked the formation. Tinhats crumpled as their knees gave out. IFVs disappeared in great balls of fire. Vulnerable support vehicles vanished in all the smoke and flames.

  The survivors broke and turned back. More unionists poured out of the city. Green flares began rising from city blocks. “Brave 6, Holdout 5,” the regiment’s XO said. “Your orders are to hold those heights until relived, we’re still clearing out, Turhita, please acknowledge.”

  “I hear you,” Bartonova said. “Listen up Brave company, we’re going to be here for a minute, so get comfortable, make sure you’re eating and drinking water.” As the rest of her company acknowledged her, she looked over the city of Turhita. Most of the buildings looked more or less intact, and the roads held up as well. This is all good. People can get back to their lives when all this is over. She sighed and looked towards the setting sun. When all this is over.

  “I needed some fresh air,” Chaney said as he and Commodore Mendez walked through one of the many halls of Congregation. “Or as fresh as I can get.” The underground capital of the Congaree Martian Republic recycled air, much like a space colony, although some air came from the harsh snowscape outside.

  “Want to go to the Central dome?” Mendez asked. “You can see the aurora at this time of year.”

  “Is he weather good enough for that?” Chaney asked. Whoever had
designed the capital city decided they’d rather model the city after some kind of ski resort rather than remind people constantly they were underground. They walked across heated stone tiles surrounded by fake wooden walls. Digital frames projected live images reflective of the outdoor weather. The ones near them displayed a calm, quiet, snowy night. “I guess it is.”

  “I need more soap anyway,” Mendez replied. “And I’m just curious to see what they have in the shops right now.” They both wore civilian clothes, Chaney wearing jeans and a pullover, with Mendez wearing a bulky sweater and corduroy pants.

  “I guess I could use a few things as well,” he said. “Toothpaste, deodorant, general hygiene stuff, maybe some more alcohol.”

  Mendez cocked an eyebrow. “Take it easy with the alcohol, you’re taking your blood pressure meds like you’re supposed to, right?” Chaney groaned and nodded.

  “I guess that means no alcohol,” he said. “Oh well, the freshish air and walk should do me some good.” As they approached the central dome, they noticed the area was bathed in a greenish light. Chaney walked into the central dome area. Above them, an aurora borealis showed through the massive see-through dome, a structure about the size of a sports arena. Mendez walked up to the railing next to him while several floors below a food court bustled.

  “It’s pretty amazing,” Chaney said. “But I need to get my things.”

  The Commodore shook her head. “It’s always all business with you,” she said. “You could stand to be more sentimental.” Her words caused him to reflect on Kennedy, Ballard, Damian Blake and their old comrades from the War of 2112. After a moment, he sighed.

  “I think I’m nearly tapped on sentimentality,” he said. “Come back when the front is stable and our supply lines aren’t shit.” They took the escalator down to the next floor, one of three floors dedicated entirely to commerce. As they made their way to the general store, Chaney caught wind of more grumbling. Once inside, he noticed there seemed to be fewer people than normal in the store. It didn’t take long to see why.

  “Seven labors for a bar of soap?” Mendez whispered harshly. “That’s not even the good kind!” Chaney shook his head as he grabbed the things he needed and put them in a basket.

  “I’m spending a lot more than what I normally do,” he said. “Granted, I haven’t been here in a while. Maybe they’re just taking longer to make things?” Mendez’s eyes grew wide as she neared the candy.

  “Oh, it all looks so good, kinda pricey,” she said. Smiling, she plucked a few bags of chocolate for her bag. Chaney couldn’t help but notice a few dirty stares from the other patrons of the general store. They looked like civilians, or Chaney assumed so, as unnatural hair colors were not authorized for MAG, Milita, or regular army members.

  “Let’s go, Mendez,” he said as soon as they paid for their things. “We’re getting some looks.” Mendez seemed puzzled until she noticed the nasty looks as well. Nodding, they left the general store and began wandering around that level. Next stop was a furniture store. Again, Chaney noted fewer patrons than the last time he was out and about.

  “Thin crowds today,” Mendez said. “Do you think more people are at work?” With a look around the floor in general, Chaney nodded.

  “Possibly,” he said. “Congarees main industries all involve creating processed goods, distributing goods, or services, and I know its getting more expensive to get raw materials here, especially with the elevator out of commission.” To himself however, Chaney wondered whether that was the case. The Space Elevator is having a massive impact on us since we can’t use resources from space, but it’s also possible the First Minister’s response to the crisis hasn’t been stellar, all of this exaggerated by whatever the Tharcians did to us.

  “Oh, look at this,” Mendez said as she approached a leather chair. As he tested furniture with Mendez, he tried his best to forget the problems outside. Despite his efforts, however, he knew they would be back.

  “Madam President,” Major Starnes said. “I must advise you not to follow through with this action.” The President sat at her desk, with Starnes and the intelligence agents seated in uncomfortable chairs arrayed in front of her. They possessed narrow bottoms, thin fusion under the leather stretched over a high-backed chair.

  President Reinhardt, a formidable woman in her own right, wore a light blazer over a black business dress. Grey streaked the temples of her dark hair, and she had a certain stiffness of jaw common to people that were used to getting their way.

  “I don’t see what the problem is,” she replied. “If you’re right about Varujan Apostu, then he’s an enemy of the state and should be detained immediately, you lose a high level mole, I lose my toughest opponent in the elections, it’s a win-win for us and the country.” Starnes’ phone buzzed as Emma spoke up.

  “The problem is, madam president,” she began. “Without more solid evidence of wrongdoing, it would be illegal to detain him and would likely stain your own campaign.” Starnes glanced at the text from Emma. “Try playing their game.”

  “What if we had a better solution?” Starnes asked. “One that makes you look like above party politics one way, or a cunning leader in another?” President Reinhardt cocked an eyebrow.

  “I’m listening,” she said. Taking a deep breath and tenting his hands, he looked the woman dead in the eye.

  “What if the HSB informs you that they received a tip that someone in his campaign is plotting to assassinate him?” Starnes suggested. “You move him into protective custody, investigating every member of his campaign along with him, if he’s not the traitor, it looks like you put the safety of your countrymen above electoral politics, a move that resonates well with the voters, or if he is, it becomes clear that you set a trap for him, making you look like a cunning leader.”

  “And if he refuses?” The president asked. Jon nodded.

  “Then he looks suspicious,” the National said. “Why would he refuse help in the face of a credible threat? The only reason he would is if he knew it was bullshit, but that would definitely out him as the traitor to us.”

  “There are other suspects we need to investigate,” Starnes said. “But his case needs to be handled with the most care.” The President stroked her chin, eyeing them curiously as she slowly oscillated in her chair. Finally, the woman nodded.

  “Your plan has merit,” she said. “And I can assure you, any traitors will harshly punished.” They thanked the president for her time, and after assuring her the other suspects would be investigated thoroughly, they departed.

  “That was easier than I expected,” Starnes said. “I figured she would be stubborn to the point of stupidity.”

  Emma shook her head. “She’s stubborn, but she’s no fool,” she said. “Clearly she saw the value of our plan over hers.” She checked the list on a physical note pad. “So, do we want to split up the other investigations? While the President works things out on her end.”

  “I’ll take care of the former signals chief,” Starnes said. “I have some connections to that office that I trust can look into some things.” He looked back at Emma, who double checked her list.

  “I’ll investigate them under the guise of an audit,” she said. “The Army Intelligence department is probably long overdue for an audit, anyway.”

  “Then I’ll carry out investigations into your plans, chief,” Jon said, “But that still leaves the former personal chief and the current chief, her former deputy.” He looked from Emma to Starnes. “We’re going to have to double up on those two.”

  “I’ll assist with General Weinheber,” Starnes said. “I already have to work with him, and it wouldn’t be unusual to talk to him. That being said, Emma should investigate the former chief as she’s a civilian now.” Starnes pulled out his phone and checked his schedule. “Myself and the Marshall were actually supposed to meet with Weinheber in a few days to discuss manning issues. I’m sure I can plant a few things there or maybe even glean something about his predecessor.” Emma nodd
ed as she approached the car for them.

  “That seems as good a place as any to start,” she said. “Well, what say you we get some drinks? Lord knows we might need them.” As they drove into downtown Reichsburg, Starnes couldn’t help but admire the city lights. Maybe things are looking up.

  11

  As Reiter set the Lowe in a kneeling position, just outside Roadside, he couldn’t help but tense up. Maybe the MAG here really are on their last legs. Rather than dig in and fight tooth and nail to defend the position, they’d staged a fighting withdrawal in the face of early company. But my gut’s telling me something isn’t right.

  The stretch of Autobahn that ran past Roadside connected all the way back to Pulaski, the provincial capital and nerve center of the Union forces on this front. With all the roads leading back into occupied Olympia, it afforded the Union the best possible supply line as well as an escape route away from the bulk of Tharcian forces. So why give it up?

  “Something feels funny here,” he said over the company command net, to no one in particular.

  Mo agreed. “It’s really not like the MAG to just rollover and give up,” he said. “Though granted they don’t fight to the death, to the man either.” Reiter glanced over at Mo’s machine. Though it had gone through numerous upgrades over the course of the war, underneath all the fancy armor plating and fire control systems he saw his old, temperamental aging Panzerter mark IV. Ol girls come a long way, and so have I.

  “They have some kind of trap brewing,” Webb said. “It’s the only thing I can think of.”

  “If Early gets caught up in something, we’ll lend them a hand,” Reiter said. “Until then, we focus on defending the village.” Despite his words, he still felt uneasy. What if the trap was for them? Or the whole regiment? These thoughts ate at Reiter while he starred at the battlenet.