Enemy Front

by T. E. Butcher

  All in all, it made for an impressive array. On paper. Next to him, Irving nodded and took notes.

  “We’ll be lucky to get the snipers,” she said. “After Eden’s Gate, they’ll be in high demand. At least we’re not trying to add Phobians to our roster.” She frowned. “It’s going to take time to train those new pilots, rushed training is worse than no training.”

  Kennedy nodded as he began pacing the room. “We’ll have time,” he said. “The Tharcians are going to struggle to pull themselves together after Eden’s Gate. Their next offensive won’t be as complex or confident.” He stroked his chin. “Between the new wave of soldiers from our settlements as well as the Avalonian Expeditionary force, we should have a considerable advantage.”

  Irving raised an eyebrow. “Should?” With a sigh, Kennedy crossed the room and sat in a camp chair.

  “Every time everything seems to come together, something bites us in the ass,” he said. “And it’s always something we could have prepared for, but weren’t. It doesn’t matter what higher command says or does, it’s a failure on our part, and we need to do better.”

  “Blaming ourselves won’t solve those issues,” Irving said. “Especially the ones that are systematic.”

  “Is it a systematic failure that we’ve routinely underestimated the Tharcians?” Kennedy said. “Every operation, they seem more clever, more determined, and more capable than we’ve given them credit for.” He looked at Irving. “We have no excuse, us specifically, because we’ve fought them so many times, hell, the same Tharcians every other time.”

  “Then no more,” Irving said. “With this next operation, we need to cling to our objective: the utter destruction of Army Group West.” Kennedy nodded and relaxed into his chair. As he did, Irving stepped behind him and began massaging his muscular shoulders. “And after the war is won, well, there will be plenty of room during the rebuilding for a new kind of leader to step forward.”

  He nodded as he let her ease the soreness in his shoulders and neck. “Yeah, there’s going to have to be some changes around here.”

  The closest thing Adam Haussner could compare the bomb blast to was a car crash in his early twenties. He’d been trying to impress a girl from the college across town and drove a car in manual on a particularly rainy night. Boy had his commandant been pissed. His shins and thighs throbbed, as did his back, right shoulder, neck and head. Everything hurt. Maybe that just came with age. Or maybe he should have thanked the Lord he lived through the bomb blast.

  The Man upstairs must have seen something in him, because not only was he aware of his own condition, but he could hear the outside of his tank thanks to the pickups normally used to communicate with concise patients. A lot of fraternization happened down here. Officers who should know better. Enlisted who knew they were being used, but went with it, anyway. He pitted the young man who an older doctor had taken an interest in. With her bizarre demeanor towards him, Hausnerr was certain they both had a complex.

  But as far as his treatment went, he knew the truth. Yeah, a Union spy tried to kill him, but the lax security and negligence had little to do with Union tampering. He’d heard the conversations. He knew about Krones passed around and the interests involved. Skara, his predecessor, cast a long shadow.

  “We should bring him back soon,” one of the doctors told his colleague. “He’ll be weaker and confused easily, just like Senator Huber and Mr. Apostu want, controllable.”

  “You have a point,” the other, the woman with the boy toy, said. “He could start signing the right papers, get money in the right hands, war all you like, just be clean about it.” He heard a shift in the room. “If the First Nation really is going to get involved, half of those states are going to need military equipment, more will need modern weapons, seems like we could make a lot of money off a prosperous country.” The First Nation? What the hell happened while I was out? “That’s not even getting stated on all the colonies that will want either us to protect them or their own assets.”

  Parasites, the lot of them are parasites. He heard something beep outside of the regeneration tank. “Is he awake?” one of them asked.

  “No,” the other one said. “His blood pressure is rising though, that’s what we get for putting an older man through regeneration treatment.” Another sigh. “Honestly, as much as we’re getting paid, maybe we should get younger and fresher at the top. I can’t imagine a group of old men and women as a wellspring of new ideas.”

  Lord help us if the Army or Navy is left to these fools. Hausnerr’s body felt like it was trapped in cement. He took several strained breaths. The stale, recycled air of his own mouth disgusted him. For a moment, he understood the burdens of that old titan, Atlas, who held the world on his shoulders. His hand twitched.

  Mo grinned as he held out his hand. “It’ll be worth it, trust me.” He stood on a rocky outcrop along a worn trail up one of the mountains near the rear detachment. Behind him on the trail, Amy Steele dripped with sweat.

  “You know,” she gasped as she followed. “If I wanted to walk so much, I would have joined the infantry.” She gulped down the water she brought with her.

  “Come on babe,” he said. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” She smiled as he only called her that away from their soldiers. Mo helped her onto the outcrop, then pointed to the peak. “Besides, we’re only going right there.”

  Amy shook her head. “Why can’t we just enjoy the view from right here?” She said. “Besides, I thought it was bad to crest a hill.” Mo wagged a finger at her.

  “It’s not quite as majestic here,” he replied. “There’s a mountain in the way, besides we’re well away from the front now, so we don’t need to worry about all that.” The peak loomed just a hundred yards over them. While it wasn’t the largest one he could have picked, it did have the most open space to view. Just like he planned.

  Amy wiped the sweat from her forehead as she got her breath back. “Next time you suggest a romantic hike,” she said. “Remind me to say no.” He smiled as he admired her. Despite all the sweat, she’d stayed fit far better than most part-timers in the provincial watch. It helped that she regularly climbed into panzerters and worked out.

  “Trust me, it’ll be worth it,” he replied. “Now lets go.” At the beginning of the hike, they talked for hours about inside jokes, old family stories, and the like. He’d nearly forgotten the time Amy’s older sister had been caught drinking underage by his mother, or the twin’s attempt to hide a dog in the Steele’s yard.

  As they climbed the peak, the stories tapered off as they focused on their efforts to keep walking. I hope the others are already in position. While he’d never been much of a planner, he’d meticulously put this together. The work had been exhausting, especially considering their rebuilding status and everyone’s secondary responsibilities at the moment.

  But Captain Reiter saw the importance of this moment. He’d sighed whatever releases, made the right calls, and tapped the right connections. Today was possible because now matter what, the Captain had his back. After all their struggles, losing Varga, Septimus, Lugosi, Bartonova, most of the kids, everything, he and Amy had made it.

  “Well we’re here,” Amy said. Panting for breath, she leaned over. As she stood up, she held a hand over her eyes to keep the setting sun from blinding her.

  “All of that,” Mo said. “Everything we’re fighting for is down there, our home, Gallacia.” As he spoke, he took a knee. “It’s going to be a long road to build back everything, but it’s one I think is worth taking, especially with you.” He pulled out the ring that had cost him a month’s worth of savings. Amy nodded, still taking in the beautiful sunset and the scenery before her.

  Mo knelt there for a moment that seemed to last into eternity. His leg trembled and his knee grew sore. He switched legs as someone coughed in the trees behind him.

  “Oh Sweet Lord, Turn around Steele!” Stovepipe called and Mo heard Wesser snicker beside him. Oh Thank God they got here fi
rst. Amy spun around, shocked at first, then doubly shocked when she saw Mo. As Wesser snapped pictures and Stovepipe recorded, tears filled her eyes, and she nodded.

  27

  “This is all we’ve managed to put together,” Mendez said as she held a manilla folder. Chaney raised an eyebrow. The practice of keeping and maintaining physical documents was seen as outdated and wasteful, an archaic practice only he and his recycled notebooks kept.

  “It looks like I’ve been rubbing off on you,” he said as he took the file folder. Mendez shrugged.

  “You’re not the only one who sees the value of going analog, as you call it,” she replied. “No file transfers to track, and everything much harder to trace.” She folded her arms. “So let’s find out about the nature of Operation Ascent.”

  He held the folder in his hands. It was considerably thick, bound with rubber bands to keep from bursting. Carefully, so he wouldn’t damage the documents inside, he undid the rubber bands and opened the folder. Pages and pages of printouts greeted him. Chaney looked at the top layer first.

  Shipping manifests. Construction materials, mainly for the development and expansion of living quarters. Production lines. Dockyards and hydroponic bays. He looked back up at Mendez.

  “This is all for Los Estrellas,” he said. “It looks like they’re rapidly turning it into a better Phobos.” He pointed to the new air filtration system. “These will require far less maintenance than the filters in Phobos, and the automation involved reduces the number of human workers.” He squinted. “And there are tuber maintenance workers being trained right now, alongside spacer and marine templates.”

  Mendez walked around and looked over his shoulder. “Those nurseries look like they’re incorporating forced growth techniques. That would halve the production time of the tubers grown there,” she said. She shook her head. “This looks like some kind of resort built into it.”

  “And here,” Chaney pointed out as another section drew his attention. A long cylinder encased deep in the core of the asteroid station, five kilometers in diameter and twenty kilometers long. “It’s got a grand chamber for the Congress of Trade Unions, far larger than the one in Foundation.”

  “It’s the next step,” Mendez said. “Or at least the next logical step into creating a Union of Humanity.” She looked over at Chaney. “Think about it, a semi-mobile capital, capable of moving about the system as needed, held in space to better govern and administer territory between the Earth and Saturn spheres.”

  Chaney leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Well, that explains the secrecy,” he snorted. “If we’re losing, it looks like they’re abandoning the surface. If we’re winning, it makes us look overconfident and ambitious, and the last thing we need is getting another country involved when our position is already precarious.” He looked back at her. “Speaking of which, the IRS may have picked a fight we can’t win right now.”

  Mendez shook her head. “I couldn’t believe the report when I read it,” she said. “The First Nation, of all the other countries, of all the nation-states we could have picked a fight with, they had to pick the largest and most powerful one on the surface.” She scowled and glanced at Chaney. “It would have helped a little if we had a tuber that could see the future.”

  With a sigh, he put a hand on Mendez’s arm. “While I don’t agree with Kennedy’s choice, I understand it,” he said. “He wanted an opportunity to prove he was better than the people that made him and he did it. Granted, I’m still not convinced the Tharcians won’t try to weaponise that young tuber.”

  “Me neither,” the Commodore replied. “But you’re still defending the man.” Chaney scratched at his chin, then proceeded to rise from his chair. As he crossed the room, he opened his wine cooler and removed the bottle he received at Blake’s funeral.

  “You know it’s a funny thing,” he said as he poured them both a glass. “Kennedy is for sure a better man then the people that made him, but is it because of the way he was trained? Or is it more inate? Was he made from better people?” He handed her a glass and nodded. “He’d never admit it, but Kennedy was the closest thing Blake would ever have to a son.” He took a swig from his glass and sat back down.

  “You know Kennedy’s donors? Blake was one?” Mendez asked before taking a sip. Chaney nodded.

  “One of six,” he replied. “None of whom would care for this Operation Ascent nonsense.” As they sipped on their wine and looked over the documents, Chaney hoped beyond hope that Mendez didn’t notice the empty pill bottle in the trash.

  “This is a big step,” Irving said. “You’re now the first tuber to lead a division.” Kennedy shrugged and rolled his shoulders. They walked along a wide street as they approached a grand glass building. Pink petals fell like snow from the winding, twisted structure thanks to the tree branches interleaved on the outer walls.

  “It doesn’t feel too different,” he replied. “Just four times the people I’m responsible for, speaking of which, do you feel up to leading the battalion?” Irving nodded.

  “I’m as ready as I’m going to be,” she said. “Though with Fournier, I feel like I have an outstanding XO.” She took another look at his shoulder boards and rank, making sure they looked clean and neat before nodding. “Don’t embarrass us too hard.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “Comrade Meyer is leading this army now. I don’t think it will be too bad,” he replied. With a salute followed by a hug, he left Irving to her devices and entered.

  At one point, the building had been a hotel, a five star resort, and one of the premier destinations in Pulaski. The ecotecture and newish construction reminded him that it had been built after Gallacia left the Union, a fact that needled him as he made his way to the front desk.

  After proving his credentials, security gave him clearance to take the elevator to the top floor. Despite the building’s impressive size, the elevator ride remained short. When he finally reached the top floor meeting room, he was greeted by a stunning scene. Those same branches arched around the open glass walls and ceiling. The single opening provided an ample view of the Gallacian capital and the mountains to the south.

  “Comrade Colonel,” Meyer said. “Glad you could join us.” Kennedy offered her a crisp salute before taking his seat.

  “Things looked a little chaotic coming north,” he said. “I’m just glad my predecessor didn’t burn the house down.” He flashed the tall woman a grin, which she surprisingly returned.

  “It helps to have capable subordinates,” she said. “Now then, let’s get down to business.” She sat with the division heads and her staff around a circular table. A projector in the center brought up a map of the region, populated by various Union and Tharcian positions.

  “So we’re back where we were around the new year,” Meyer said. “How do we break out into the plains beyond? Our main goal is to breakout and roll across the rest of Tharsis, so how do we get past their defenses here?”

  Kennedy studied the map intently, along with the rest of the leaders gathered. To the south, the Tharcians maintained a tenuous foothold on the mountains while in the Black Forest to the north, they held onto every square meter of ground. Between these two locations, a shallow salient touching the ruined town of Landfall stretched along the front.

  “Let’s take the highway, to the south,” one of the commanders, Wellington, he thought his name was said. “We concentrate our spear along the seam of their defenses and roll north towards the Hendrix Davis line.” He stood up and illustrated his idea in broad strokes. “It’s not exactly a great plan, we’ll have to determine secondary objectives and such, but if we pull it off, we can deliver an even bigger victory than Eden’s Gate.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little ambitious?” Another commander asked. “If not overtly optimistic?” She pointed to the projected area of the battle plan. “You’d be spreading your division thin advancing, unless you intend one of us to shift forces to cover you, that and you’re severely undere
stimating the tenacity of the Tharcians on defense.”

  “I have a solution,” Kennedy offered. “I understand we’re spread thin here, but if some of our forces attack along the northern front simultaneously, and we get some support from the forces on the border-“

  “They won’t realize which attack is the main effort,” Wellington finished. “An excellent suggestion, comrade Kennedy. Now that being said, I would like to begin prep work immediately.” Meyer nodded.

  “I’ll have division level goals for the lot of you soon,” she said. She stood, and they all followed suite. In unison, they saluted and said, “One Mars” before leaving. As he made his way to the elevator, he itched under his uniform. Honestly I’d rather be in a panzerter.

  Reiter stood as still as his new RCO pinned a new rank on his collar. Somewhere they’d found a garrison uniform that fit him. A gold six-pointed star on a white background marked his transition from captain to Major. He’d still be in command of Fox, although now it was Combat Group Fox instead of a company.

  The man pinning him, a gruff colonel, shook his hand and saluted him before returning him to the head of his formation. He shot an unnerving glance at Combat Group Early as he did. Bartonova’s sister, a former test pilot, had taken command of their sister unit. Her resemblance to her sister creeped him out a bit, but supposedly her personality was the polar opposite. Talk about culture shock.

  They didn’t stick around long. The RCO gave a few words before dismissing them to their tasks. And they had many. The most important of which was overseeing the transition of his unit from a combined arms company to a heavy cavalry unit.

  His Panzerter forces would be stronger, but less numerous. New model Panther sorted into platoons of no more than four. Magnetic weapons had become the stock standard of the Tharcian army in this area, including a new 200-mm Anti Panzerter rifle.