by Chris Bunch
“Think armies, bwana,” Njangu whispered. “Think beeeg armies. Think of all those Larries and Kurries we’re going to be drafting when this war is over. Think of that Star Marshal rank you’re always trying to bullshit me into believing you’re the illegitimate son of. By the way, does that rank really exist?”
“Hell if I know,” Garvin said. “Daddy might’ve been lying to Momma. I’m just a simple circus boy.” He looked out the window of the I&R office as a squad of new trainees doubled past.
“Beeeg armies, huh?
“Maybe we better do some serious plotting. And also see about making some under-the-counter investments in ship factories.”
• • •
The six Kuran ships lifted from scattered airfields, each heavy-laden with processed or fresh foodstuffs for Larix, and joined up out-atmosphere. There was an elderly patrol craft as group commander, more a formality than anything else.
They were about to enter hyperspace when the Parnell, the newly named Nectan, a third Kelly-class, and two velv spat from behind one of Kura’s moons. The patrol ship CO challenged them, realizing they were enemy ships only as the four Force craft launched missiles.
Suddenly there were four fire-streaked gasballs in space. The fifth Cumbrian missile detonated early, and the merchant ship that had been its target had an instant to yelp a mayday before a second launch blew it apart. The sixth ship turned back toward Kura and was in the ionosphere when a missile from one velv took it, and Kura’s night sky became a fireworks display.
The patrol ship scuttled for hyperspace, but a velv had a lock on it and launched. The modified Goddard went into N-space after the patrol ship, which was never seen again.
The Cumbrian ships jumped back into invisibility. War was now joined.
• • •
“This,” Ben Dill said into the microphone, “is going to be the most goddamned weird flying school any of us has ever attended.
“Look around.”
The sixty trainees, from recruits to warrants to officers, Garvin and Njangu among them, obeyed. They also considered the line of officers and enlisted men on the stage with two aliens, their future instructors.
“The standard thing,” Dill continued, “is say good-bye to the one on your right, the two on your left, or whatever the number the school figures it’s gonna bust out.
“That’s bullshit. We — the Force — want every swingin’ Richard of you to graduate, to get your icklepretty pilot’s wings. So help the woman or man next to you if you can. We’ll make a First in Class award, no more, so you don’t have to worry about backbiting for minor points. Everybody else is just Pass or Fail.
“We’re in a war, and we don’t have time for batshit. That means us instructors aren’t gonna worry about whether you shined your boots last night or if you’re even wearing boots. For those of you who’re fresh enlistees, you’ll get all that stuff hypnotically, like the more experienced sorts did.
“We want you to learn. Every one of you’s said she or he was interested in flying, and you’ve all got the brains. I’ve looked at your test scores.
“So you’re capable. Maybe you’re going to find out you really didn’t want to fly, don’t like space, aren’t that quick with your math or spatial relationships or have the common sense to not want to leave nice, safe dirt.
“ ‘Kay. You gave it a try, and you can go back to your home formation not feeling bad. Nobody’s going to be screaming at you, making you run up and down hills or do push-ups or any of the rest of the crap.
“The OIC of the school is Force Commander Angara. Everybody else works for him, no matter what the rank. That means I’ll be teaching, Alikhan here’ll be teaching, this little shit here named Gorecki’ll be teaching. We want to help, not hurt you. Sometimes one person’ll be instructing you, sometimes another. Don’t worry about changes in your instructors. Like I said, we’ve got a war to fight, so your instructor on one day might be out there beatin’ up Larries the next. This whole mess is gonna be catch-as-catch-can.
“Another thing. Don’t be afraid of asking questions or even pulling something semidumb. If it’s too dumb, and it doesn’t kill you, but it damned near kills me, then you’re gone. Otherwise, you get another chance at an instructor.
“This whole deal is going to be hard and fast, down and dirty.
“Make me … and the Force … proud of you. Now, let’s go to work.”
• • •
“Sorry to lift you from going round about in the middle of the air, Njangu,” Hedley said. “But you’re our current expert on what Redruth and his number two, that Celidon, might be thinking.
“You were copied the report on the first raid, which was a total success. What do you think the response from Larix/Kura will be to that?”
“I can’t say precisely, sir,” Njangu said. “But I’d think Redruth’s first reaction would be to beef up the patrols around Kura. Celidon might think we’re going back and forth to confuse them, so he might want heavy patrols around Larix, figuring that’ll be our next target.”
“Mmmh,” Angara said. “That’s exactly our plan for the next raid.”
“Then, what I’d suggest, maybe, is hit them as hard as you can. Celidon will probably be expecting another light raid as we escalate … and not have as heavy a response element as he should have. Maybe. Sir.”
“Not a bad idea at all,” Hedley said. “Assuming that we eventually are going to have to invade them, wouldn’t it be a good idea to take out as many of their warships as possible, right now?
“Thank God we’ve got the Musth nice and happy and mining half of flipping C-Cumbre for metal to sell back to us as aksai and velv, so maybe we’re actually able to build more ships than Redruth can shoot down.
“A slight veer, Njangu. I’ve read your report on these Naarohn-class cruisers Redruth supposedly wants to build. We’ve seen none in action or on the ground yet, although the heaviest intel I’ve been willing to commit to is a zoom-by pass on Larix Prime and Secundus. You said that Celidon was opposed to building these cruisers. Is there any possibility he convinced Redruth and we won’t have to worry about those pigs coming out of the woodwork?”
“No, sir,” Njangu said flatly. “If Redruth changes his mind, all on his own, then no Naarohns. But from what I saw, nobody’s got much of a chance to change anything with Redruth, once he’s set.”
“Like most dictators,” Angara said.
Njangu saw Penwyth look at the ceiling, could read his thoughts: And Commanding Officers. He buried a grin.
“If I may make a suggestion, sir?” he said.
“Go ahead.”
“If I were you, rather than screw around waiting for these cruisers to show up, I’d jump the gun and go after them in the shipyards, sir.”
“We don’t really have the ships ready for that heavy a raid,” Angara said. “Or, we do. But I’d have to assume we’d take significant casualties going after the yards with any kind of precision attack.
“Not to mention we’d have to find all of them … you only gave us three or four locations.”
“That’s why I’d go nuke, sir,” Njangu said. “Redruth’s already opened the option. If their damned shipyards are glowing in the dark, it’ll take time for them to rebuild.”
“No,” Angara said flatly. “The Confederation policy is to use nuclear weaponry only against a purely military target, and then only as a last resort.”
His voice didn’t encourage further discussion. Njangu caught Penwyth’s eye, and he nodded once.
“Yessir,” was all Yoshitaro said.
“I guess that’s all,” Angara said. “Jon, do you have anything more?”
“Nope.”
Njangu stood, saluted, and went out. Penwyth was right behind him.
“You see, you atrocity-committin’ radioactive snake, the way we upholders of truth and justice think?” the slender man drawled.
“Yeh. Damned glad we’re fighting such a moral damned war. And I think I can
weasel out of the rest of the day’s training, since it’s only got an hour to go. You, you truthie justicer, can buy the first round.”
• • •
The next raid lasted longer and was a great deal bloodier. For both sides.
Two Cumbrian Kellys, Caud Angara on the bridge of the lead ship, dropped from hyperspace and took out the nearest patrol ship. It should’ve been a giveaway that they let the ship report before they blew it apart, then hung around, waiting.
Half a dozen of the new Larissan destroyers responded. They got the two Kellys on-screen, just as other Cumbrians arrived — two more Kellys, plus ten velv and supporting aksai.
The Larissans called for more backup and, outnumbered, attacked. No one had ever accused the Larries of lacking courage.
Another formation of destroyers, flanked with patrol ships, took off from Larix Prime. Celidon himself was on the bridge of the command ship.
Again, the Cumbrians stayed in Larissan space, and the battle was fully joined as other Kelly-class ships appeared. Ships swirled, darted in and out of N-space, took hits, and some died.
It was less a battle than a swarming melee, and no one, starting with the fleet commanders, had any idea of what was going on beyond his own short-range screens and bridge.
Caud Angara had figured on the confusion, so each of the Cumbrian ships had a synchronized time tick. At the ordered time, the Cumbrian ships broke contact as best they could and jumped to a prearranged sector of “dead” space. The one Larissan destroyer and two patrol boats able to put tracers on the Cumbrians emerged from N-space into a hail of missiles, and died.
The toll at “day’s” end was two Kellys destroyed, with the survivors of one crew recovered against orders, two velv destroyed and one aksai lost, three Kellys damaged.
Larissan casualties were five destroyers and seven patrol boats killed, and an unknown number of ships damaged.
It was a Cumbrian victory, but Angara thought it was far too expensive, a judgment he shared with the other field-grade officers of the Force, and not his men or the exultant holos.
Jon Hedley noted, with cynical amusement, that Loy Kouro’s Matin was now the loudest to sing praises for the heroic women and men of the Legion.
Hedley kept the detailed assessment of the engagement close, but it was no surprise: The smaller Kellys were more maneuverable and had better electronics suites than the Larissan destroyers, which intelligence arbitrarily dubbed the Lan-class until they’d learn the Larissan designation. The Lan-class, on the other hand, were faster in secondary drive, more heavily armed, and had bigger crews.
Velv were quicker, more maneuverable than both the Lans and the Nana-class patrol ships, and could be more heavily armed than any patrol class. But they were far more fragile than either of the Larissan class, as, of course, were the aksai.
The Force’s biggest advantage was that the Cumbrian pilots had more combat experience. But that, Hedley and everyone else knew, would change as the war went on.
There were three scales to be considered: which side could outbuild the other; which side could train pilots more quickly; and, of course, which side fought more skillfully.
• • •
To Garvin, Njangu, and the other students, this first battle between the ships of war was no more than noted in passing. They were too busy with their own affairs. Dill might have honestly articulated the school’s philosophy, but that didn’t mean the instructors, both field and classroom, weren’t working their pupils to the bone and beyond.
The aksai pod was double-canopied. In one lay Alikhan, in the other Garvin.
“Are you comfortable with the situation?” Alikhan asked.
Garvin wanted to say no, not really, that there was no frigging way he’d been trained enough to even push an out-atmosphere Grierson around, let alone the quirky Musth attack ships.
“Yes, sir,” was all he said.
He heard a hiss, looked over at the other bubble, saw Alikhan’s mouth open wide, fangs showing, in amusement, obviously knowing Garvin’s thoughts.
The aksai hung a planetary diameter off D-Cumbre, with nothing but a single chase ship behind it.
“You will note that we are surrounded by nothing but vacuum,” Alikhan said. “So if you do go out of control, there is nothing to hit except that other aksai, and its pilot is very skilled at evading out-of-control students.
“You have completed both the hypnotism and the computer simulation of the controls and how this ship behaves, so you should not be unfamiliar with what it shall do under your control.
“Are you ready, Garvin?”
Garvin inhaled deeply.
“One question, Alikhan?”
“Ask.”
“How many hours did you have in an aksai before you were allowed to fly it?”
“That is a hard computation … let me think … perhaps two hundred of your hours in various other craft.”
Garvin, with a bit over fifty hours, took the controls.
“For our first exercise,” Alikhan ordered, “we will accelerate at half drive, and make a complete orbit around the moon Fowey, staying well clear of the surface, and return to this point as closely as you can.”
Garvin applied power, felt the increased hum. The aksai shot ahead. Fowey grew visibly larger. Damned thing kicks out, he thought.
“Very good, Garvin,” Alikhan said after a while. “I notice you have been anticipating the behavior of this ship. That is the only way to successfully pilot it. You must stay ahead of the aksai, or …”
“Or it kills you,” Garvin said grimly. They’d lost two students already. War thinking had come fast — the loss of the ships was mourned more than that of the prospective pilots. Besides, the disasters had to have been pilot error, everyone in the class knew, since there has never been a flyer who believes in things like luck, fate, or unflyable craft.
“That is true,” Alikhan said. “Prepare for the orbital change as you approach the satellite. And do not forget your charting, to reach your desired point of return.”
As if I’m not busy enough.
“This is most relaxing,” Alikhan said. “After we do two, perhaps three of these simple exercises, it shall be time to learn evasive and quick-response piloting.
“We shall not, initially, practice these tactics against another pilot, for obvious reasons. Instead, you will transition out to the asteroids off G-Cumbre.
“They make perfectly acceptable enemies for the beginner to attack.”
Garvin, who’d begun to relax a trifle, found himself as tense as when he’d stuffed himself into this cockpit.
• • •
“Boss,” Adj-Prem Monique Lir told Erik Penwyth, “even though you’re just acting II Section honcho, I’d like to request a favor.”
“Big or small, Monique?” Erik, being an ex-I&R enlisted man, still wasn’t used to the woman who’d trained him and then controlled his entire universe sirring him.
“Pretty big.”
“Then I think you’d best wait until Garvin and Njangu get their wings or bust out, and the chain of command goes back to normal.”
“I already talked to both of them and, well, what I’m asking for is actually sort of their idea. Although the other noncoms and I agree.”
Monique didn’t explain that it’d taken Garvin and Njangu most of a night they desperately needed for study and sleep to hammer the always-traditional warrants in I&R into seeing beyond the present.
“If both those two have signed off, and want you to push it through, this is goin’ to get tricky,” Erik said. “Not to mention possibly putting my ass in a crack.”
“Not a chance, boss. The Old Man’ll probably give you a medal for creativity.” Lir wondered where she was suddenly coming up with this sneaky approach, decided she’d been around Yoshitaro too long.
“I&R’s up to full strength again,” she went on. “Matter of fact, I’m hiding five warm bodies off the roster. And we’re not doing anything these days except running up
and down hills and trying to keep from being a paintbrush brigade for headquarters.”
“I’ve been tryin’ to keep them off your back as much as I can,” Penwyth apologized. “But sometimes they get around me, and you folks end up clipping the damnation grass.”
“Forget about it, boss. Anyway, the idea we’ve got is to bust up I&R into the basic two-man fighting pairs, and then put us to work learning how to fight in ships.”
“There’s no way Angara’s going to let I&R be dissolved,” Penwyth said. “And I’m a little shocked you can even think about something like that.”
“Not permanently,” Lir said. “Just for additional training, hopefully going out with the raiders. But the way the war’s going to go, I think the Force could use some extra missile crewmen and gunners. Once somebody’s learned how to fight from a ship, we can add the specialty to their records.”
Penwyth tapped fingers on his desk, realizing that he wasn’t the perfect Rentier anymore, since he badly needed a manicure.
“Interestin’,” he said. “And not that bad an idea. Not to mention that as the Force gets bigger, which it’s going to have to do, I suspect, those I&R people with the extra skills’d be in line for instant promotion.”
“A little money never hurts,” Lir said.
“The only problem, Monique,” Erik said, “is if things get too hectic, everybody who needs a shooter’ll be lookin’ at I&R as a replacement pool. You could lose some of your best crunchies like that.”
“Not to worry,” Monique said, expressing a confidence she didn’t feel. “The real sneaks’ll manage to stay with me, and the rest can go on to glory.”
“I’ll talk to the Old Man,” Penwyth said. “And I don’t see any reason he wouldn’t let I&R go on temporary duty hither and yon away from home and justify all those rations you clowns suck up.
“Go ahead and start drawin’ up the orders and settin’ up the pairs.”
“Already in the works, boss. I started punching computer buttons this morning.”
“Hmph. You presume a lot, Adj-Prem.”
• • •
Redruth tried another surprise attack, sending half a dozen destroyers into the Cumbre system from a nav point “below” the system ecliptic, trying for another strike on D-Cumbre. But Cumbrian detection systems found them, and patrols went after the six. The Larissans were slashed apart far off D-Cumbre, although two Cumbrian ships were destroyed, and three damaged. The war was escalating.
