by Jay Allan
Samuels wondered if the Marines' unique method of recruitment and training was outdated. Certainly there were those who thought so. To many in the government, a tiny frontier security contingent composed of an eclectic group of rebellious types was tolerable, but the demands of the Third Frontier War had expanded that small force into an army almost 300,000 strong, equipped with every manner of weapon. And that army existed almost entirely outside the control of the political class, something the politicians found increasingly unacceptable.
He watched a group of recruits as they moved into his field of view on the training ground. They were heading out on a run, probably part of physical training for a batch of new arrivals. Marines chosen for assault units spent six years in training, but they all started the same way, running until they ended up doubled over, heaving up their guts, sergeants dogging them the whole time. Most of the recruits who came here thought they were tough, and job one for their instructors was showing them what tough really was.
Samuels lost track of time gazing out the window, and he was startled by the AI's gentle, human-sounding voice. "Incoming communication, General Samuels."
He took a deep breath and turned away from the window, laying his hands on the desk. "Establish link." A slight pause. "Encryption, code Matahari."
"Link established. Encryption code Matahari in effect."
Samuels found himself looking around the room, even though he knew he was alone. Satisfied, he picked up the headset and strapped it on. "Number Four, checking in."
The Directorate conference room was quieter than usual. There had been bad news, and everyone present was concerned how Number One would react. As always, the mysterious Number Four was represented only by a hologram and altered voice. At the end of the table, on one side of the laser-generated image, sat Jack Dutton, quiet and impassive. He was the only person besides Stark who knew that the shadowy Number Four was actually General Raphael Samuels, though even he didn't know how Stark had managed to flip a Marine of such high rank.
The seat on the other side of the hologram was empty. Alex Linden was on Epsilon Eridani IV, personally supervising the crucial excavation there, though with recent developments it now appeared she was in serious trouble. There had been no word from her for several weeks.
Sitting across the table from Dutton, Andres Carillon sat quietly, his face impassive. He wondered how Alex was handling the situation on EE-4. Maybe the snotty bitch finally got what she deserved, he thought with just a little malice. Alex had rejected his advances several times, and he hadn't taken it well.
The door slid open, and Number One walked in briskly. "Please accept my apologies for my tardiness. I'm afraid with the current situation it couldn't be helped." He slid the chair back from the head of the table and sat. "I assume you have all been briefed on the CAC's assault on Epsilon Eridani IV." He scanned the table, noting the general nods of assent.
"I'm afraid we have very little information beyond that contained in Admiral Franklin's drone." He moved his eyes around the table as he spoke. "The lack of any follow up communication does not suggest a favorable outcome. The admiral indicated he was heavily outnumbered, though he acknowledged his hold at all costs orders." He looked down briefly, eyes fixed on the table. "We can only assume that his fleet has been destroyed and the planet taken."
Everyone present already knew that much, yet hearing it said out loud emphasized the terrible importance of the development. "The one planet that we could not afford to lose," Stark said bitterly, "appears to have been lost. Every advantage we have gained in the war could be moot if we are unable to retrieve the situation."
Stark had not raised his voice, but everyone here knew the intensity of his displeasure, and no one would speak until he had directly asked a question. No one except Dutton. "Number One, I believe that we can recover the planet if we act quickly enough. We must mount a major operation to retake the system as soon as possible." This was a bit of playacting; he and Stark had already devised a plan.
Stark played along. "You are correct, Number Two, but first there is another development we must discuss, another disaster of which I have just now been informed." He paused for a second. "Admiral Liang has apparently ambushed the forces that Fleet Admiral Garret was moving to Eta Cassiopeiae for the resumption of Operation Sherman. As you are all aware, Garret's task force was heavily depleted and scheduled to resupply at Columbia." Every eye in the room was riveted to him. "We do not have many details, but it appears that Cromwell was targeted and destroyed by the attacking fleet. Admiral Garret is missing and presumed KIA."
The quiet in the room was replaced by a series of gasps and other expressions of surprise. Augustus Garret had led a battered and demoralized navy from the brink of defeat to the verge of total victory. And now this? Killed in an ambush? Shock overrode their fear of Number One, and all at once the Directors started speaking in a confused babble.
Stark held up a hand. "Please, please. Let us not lose our composure. If Admiral Garret is indeed lost, none will mourn him more than I. But we must consider next steps." He hesitated, trying not to sound too rehearsed. "The news, tragic though it appears to be, is not all bad. I had unconfirmed reports that the CAC intended something like this, and I arranged for a relief force to be dispatched to meet the admiral and escort him the rest of the way to Columbia. Unfortunately, the task force arrived too late to prevent the attack or save the admiral. They did, however, transit into the system just as Liang's force was breaking off from their attack. Our task force caught the depleted CAC ships on their way back across the system and inflicted a serious defeat. Admiral Liang was apparently captured."
More gasps around the room. Stark paused a few seconds to allow the news to sink in. "While our forces were able to defeat the CAC fleet, they suffered considerable damage. The entire fleet has been ordered back to 12 Ophiuchi for repairs. I'm afraid it will be six months before we can mount a counter-invasion to retake Carson's World." His voice was somber, verging on defeated. "I trust you all know what this means?"
The reactions ranged from stunned silence to shocked nods of acknowledgement. Finally, Number 10 spoke, her voice high-pitched with stress. "Perhaps we can assemble another force? What about the units still at Gliese 250?"
Stark looked at her. He could see the desperate grasping for a solution in her expression. "I'm afraid not, Number Ten." He panned his glance around the table as he spoke. "We stripped everything bare to assemble the Gliese force in the first place. The units remaining there are all undergoing substantial repairs; few, if any, of them are capable of mounting an offensive. At least not for six months." He exhaled hard then continued. "With the effective loss of operational status for both Admiral Garret's fleet and our rescue force, I'm afraid we have few ships available for anything at this time."
"What about the new construction program?" Number Nine was generally very quiet at these meetings, focusing primarily on her internal security portfolio. Her job was keeping the Cogs and the terrified middle class in line, not plotting war strategy. "This isn't my area of coverage, of course, but we've had reports that work has accelerated and is ahead of schedule. Any possibility of getting these ships online early?"
Very good, Stark thought. She's smarter than I thought. I wonder if that is a good thing or something I will have to deal with later. "Number Nine, I had the same thought, however it appears that there are substantial issues yet to be addressed." Think, Stark, think. Give a good answer. "There has been some rapid progress made on overall structural work, however they apparently had to redesign several of the internal systems. It seems that the missile launchers have a design flaw, which causes an unacceptable failure rate during high velocity launches." That sounds good, he thought. "The latest word is that we'll be lucky to hit the original schedule, but early deployment is out of the question."
She nodded glumly. Good, he thought. She bought it. He looked around the table. They all bought it. "Since there is no point in crying over what we cannot
change, let's move on to what we can do." He moved his hands to the 'pad lying on the table in front of him. "I am going to securely transmit the proposed orders being sent to Fleetcom. You can all review this, but essentially, we will be deploying packs of fast attack ships to prevent the CAC from shipping anything from Epsilon Eridani. They've only got one exit warp gate, and we're going to mine the other side and cover it with hunter-killer groups."
He looked up from the 'pad. "We cannot allow the enemy to ship anything from our operation on Carson's World. This is an all-costs directive. If they have taken Number Six's operation intact or close to it, they are probably less than three months from beginning shipments. We must not allow this. We cannot allow them to get past the blockade, but if they mount a strong enough operation we're going to have a hard time stopping them." He paused for a long moment. "If they do get anything through we cannot lose contact with them. We must recover the cargo at all costs. All costs. Even if that means attacking them in the Alpha Centauri or Sol systems."
The room burst into a cacophony. "But that would violate the Treaty of Paris!" Number Ten had managed to yell louder than the others, but they were all saying the same thing.
Stark leaned back in his chair. "I am aware of that." His spoke slowly and deliberately. "But nothing is more important than preventing the CAC from shipping the cargo in question to Earth or one of their core worlds. Allies or not, Li An will never trust the Caliphate with this. So there are only a few places they can go, and Earth is the closest and most direct. I suggest you all utilize every intelligence asset you have to insure things do not come to this pass. We must have better intel from inside CAC C1. That bitch managed to get a leg up on us, but she isn't going to win this." His voice was grim, dark. "We are going to do whatever it takes."
He panned his head slowly around the table, staring briefly at each of the Directors, all of whom sat in stunned silence. "Very well," he finally said. "I suggest we adjourn so that all of you can consider any options for improving our flow of information. Leave no stone unturned." He leaned back in his chair. "That will be all." Then, after a brief pause, "Number Two, please remain. Number Four, please stay online as well; I want to discuss the training programs with you briefly."
"Yes, Number One." The hologram nodded as the others rose and started toward the door.
Stark sat quietly until the door slid shut. "I suspect our friend is on his way to contact Li An even now." His glum expression gave way to a wicked grin. "Do you think he took the bait?"
Number Two laughed. He'd enjoyed Stark's performance. "Yes, I think he bought it. I watched him through the entire meeting. The first time I'd ever considered sitting opposite him to be a good thing." He smiled. "How long have you know that Carillon was working for Li An?"
"To tell you the truth, it was our sweet, sexy little Alex who first suspected." His smile gave way to a look of concern. "If she ends up dead on Carson's World I'm going to miss her. I don't know where I will find another one quite like her."
"No, Alex Linden is one of a kind." Dutton let out a little snort. "Even if she is after my job. Maybe one day I will even accommodate her and retire. Or die. I doubt she cares which."
Stark snickered. "My friend, I'm not sure you are capable of either. Imagining you retired is amusing; what would you do, play golf? And you are too mean to die." The two of them laughed again then Stark turned to the hologram. "Number Four, have the orders been issued as we discussed?"
The laser-generated image was almost perfect, and a casual observer might think it was a human being in the chair, though there was still an occasional flicker when it moved abruptly. "Yes, Number One. As you know, other than Cromwell, our fleet units in the recent battle received only light damage. The enemy apparently targeted almost all of their fire on the admiral's flagship. The combined force is en route to Columbia and will be 100% combat-ready as soon as it resupplies there."
The hologram's arms moved - on the other end, General Samuels was punching up numbers on his 'pad, and the computer was transmitting his motions to the image. "General Holm has been ordered to prepare his forces to embark immediately."
"Excellent." Stark smiled. "I can also add that our four new Yorktown class ships are, in fact, ready to launch." He laughed sarcastically. "The missile launcher problem was miraculously solved in the last ten minutes."
Dutton chuckled softly, and the hologram wiggled oddly and made a strange sound - the system did not reproduce laughter well.
Stark pushed his chair from the table and leaned backward. "Hopefully we have just sent Li An some misinformation. The miserable old bitch put one over on us when she grabbed Carson's World." His face hardened in anger. "But she isn't going to keep it, and she isn't going to get so much as one shipment off of there. I don't know how she scraped up the forces she did, but it must have been just about every available unit in CAC space. When we destroy them…that is going to be the end of the war. The Caliphate is prostrate after Gliese, and we've cut off 80% of their vital resources. When we finish off the CAC fleet and ground forces, we will be the dominant power in space. We will dictate the peace terms."
The three of them sat silently and smiled. "And then we will deal with these colonists and teach them the new order of things out there." His expression was almost feral.
Chapter 12
I Corps HQ
Columbia - Eta Cassiopeiae II
The great plain between I Corps bivouac area and the city of Weston was covered with ground-to-orbit shuttles. The corps was loading up, preparing for its journey to Epsilon Eridani, and everywhere there were armored Marines marching up ramps and into the bellies of neatly aligned shuttlecraft.
Along the western edge of the assembly area, a neat row of larger ships awaited their cargo. I Corps had a tank battalion, and the massively armed and armored monsters tore up the grassy meadow and threw huge clods of dirt behind them as they rumbled toward the waiting transports.
There were palettes of supplies too, being moved on large open trucks, though most of the logistical items were already onboard the orbiting troopships and transport vessels, having been shipped in from other Alliance bases.
Colonel Erik Cain stood in the quad outside the almost-deserted former home of 1st Brigade, watching shuttles ascending, carrying the troops under his command to their waiting ships. He was wearing his armor, but his visor was open. It was a beautiful autumn day on Columbia, and Erik wanted to enjoy a last few minutes of fresh air before the weeks of recycled atmosphere he faced during the trip to Epsilon Eridani. Plus, he'd managed to convince Captain Warren he should embark early and help get the troops settled, so he'd shaken his unwelcome shadow for a few hours. He intended to enjoy the relative solitude.
"Colonel Cain, the 2nd Battalion of the 1st Regiment has completed loading and is awaiting clearance for liftoff. With their departure, all 1st Brigade personnel will have embarked except for the special action battalion." Hector was the name Cain had given the artificial intelligence unit downloaded into his armor. Designed as a virtual assistant, Hector could perform anything from simple tasks, such as saving Cain the trouble of hitting a button to bring up a display, to complex operations, like tracking the incoming data on every trooper in the brigade. "You may want to consider cutting short your contemplative activities and begin to move toward the embarkation area. You wouldn't want to miss your shuttle." The Marine AIs were designed with distinct and developable personalities as a way of enhancing interactivity and reducing stress on officers in the field. Hector, however, was a bit of a nag.
"Shut up, Hector," Cain snapped. "I am perfectly aware of the departure schedules, and I don't need some smartass computer reminding me every five minutes."
"I reminded you one time, Colonel, which is consistent with my purpose." Hector's temperament was always moderate and relaxed-sounding, even when he (it?) was being a pain in the ass. It really pissed Cain off sometimes. "I understand your human need for exaggeration when attempting to make a point, howe
ver."
Cain was going to respond, but he'd long ago decided it was a losing fight. He'd been ready to start walking over toward the shuttle, but now he found himself waiting another ten minutes just to make his point. It didn't make him proud to stand there just to spite his computer, but he did it anyway.
He was anxious to be heading back to battle. Cain was no glory hound, seeking combat for its own sake. He'd seen too much fighting, too much death to think of war as anything but a horror. But he'd come to learn that some things were worth fighting for, worth the terror and suffering and bloodshed. The worlds out here on the frontier, so different from the decadent and authoritarian society on Earth, represented to him the best in man...the hope for a better tomorrow, for a fit place to live and grow old. For that - for the brave colonists who dared to build a new civilization among the stars - he would brave the death and hardship of war.
He wasn't happy about the mission, however. Operation Sherman had been a campaign designed to liberate the occupied colony worlds, mostly lost during the difficult early years of the war. To Erik, and to General Holm and the rest of the Marines, this was a sacred task, and it had been a bitter blow when they were compelled to suspend the campaign halfway through. The months in Columbia spent waiting for the resumption of the operation were put to good use training and integrating replacement troops, but after almost a year of inactivity, Cain and his brethren were ready to get back to the task of freeing their people.
But now they were being sent to Epsilon Eridani, a relatively unimportant system that wasn't even populated anymore. The three worlds remaining in Operation Sherman were home to over 2,000,000 people, and Cain could not understand why a deserted mining planet was more important than them. It gnawed at his gut that whatever resource Carson's World had - there was obviously something of value there - the high command thought it was more important than the colonists waiting for liberation. Nevertheless, the sooner they got back to the war in any capacity, the sooner it would end.
