by John Ringo
Michelle was calmly composing a scathing reply when another faction spoke up. The group was, broadly, those willing to defend against the Hedren. The spokesperson was one of the newer Indowy mentats, but powerful from his voice.
Your reply uses no logic, the mentat said, his mind echoing through the metaconcert. It appears to be based upon personal animus. The concert is reminded that the mentor of Human Mentat Erick Winchon was Mentat Treelu. If anyone should have ensured the discontinuation of Winchon's actions, it is Mentat Treelu. Using it as a challenge against Mentat O'Neal is emotion based, rather than logic based.
The logic that some mentats must learn attack methods is, however, justifiable. Using those in training, though, is no more aggressive than surgery. As long as no harm is done with intent it is not a deviation from the Path.
We must ask the Aldenata, a querulous older thought cried. The faction he spoke for was smaller than either the nay-sayers or those in favor of action. But as he spoke, Michelle could sense leakers from both factions. We must take no part in hostilities without the benefit of their Wisdom.
By the time the Aldenata reply, the war will be over, the younger mentat thought. We argue for the compromise of the Michon. Let those who are willing to engage in defense be permitted to do so. Let those who wish to refrain refrain. Let each master find his, her or its Path. Save only that they do no harm by intent. Any use of Sohon at this level raises the question of harm through failure. Such is the nature of the universe. But evil rises; an evil that uses Sohon for great harm. This cannot be allowed. Contact the Aldenata by all means. Their answer will arrive in time and we can then be judged under that answer. This will mean sacrifice for all. Separation from home and loved ones. Perhaps even failure of debt. But these are sacrifices worth making. As Mentat O'Neal has noted, it is a binary solution set, the logic of war. My faction chooses to make the sacrifice to preserve the Way.
Michelle smiled to herself as the mentat finished. She wasn't sure if he knew it, but he'd reprised a statement used long ago on Earth.
He was asking them to give their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor.
We must ingather, Michelle thought. And there are many details to be worked out.
Indeed, Mentat Karthe replied. The Indowy was only young by Indowy standards, being some two decades older than the human. But his mind-voice felt very young. Human soldiers who go to war have a method to suspend debt payments. We will need a law covering our time during this action. There is little chance that we will be paid sufficiently to cover our payments.
Not one I'd considered, Michelle admitted. I will contact my father and see that it is done. The one that I had considered is that there may be students that do not agree with their masters, in either direction. There will be shifts.
Many details, as you said. I will begin moving the members of my faction to Earth. Most will have to ingather by ship. The masters will bring their finest students with them. We will begin arriving in two weeks.
I will convey this to my father, Michelle thought. I thank you for this.
The logic is inescapable. If good is not willing to sacrifice and fight for its beliefs, then evil will triumph.
Have you been reading Patrick Henry?
Chapter Seven
"The SS has thirty percent of its heavy equipment in shipment," Tam said. "The remainder will be arriving over the next couple of weeks. They've already begun training on the gear. Mühlenkampf feels that three months will be necessary for them to become fully trained on the systems."
"He lifts two weeks after they get the final shipment," Mike said. "If he has three months on planet to train in, all good. But a trained unit on Earth does us no good if Gratoola falls."
"I'll send him the message," Tam said. "Lieutenant General Stewart has a brief on Hedren capabilities and methods prepared."
"Go," Mike said, looking over at his son-in-law.
"I did hardly any of it," Stewart admitted. "The J-2 was preparing it before I took over. So I'm not going to take credit. Here goes:
"Hedren primary method of hard insertion is through the matter wormhole. The unit inserted is, as was previously briefed, the equivalent of a heavy armored corps with combat supports including in-system attack craft. But that's not enough to take a planet. They're really just there to establish a bridgehead. They generally will land near a notable feature of the planet, a capital city or such, and take that as fast as possible. Then they sit on it until more forces arrive through hyper-jump."
"Why not just attack through hyper?" Mike asked.
"Think about it from a defense point-of-view, General," Stewart said. "Defenses are based to point outwards. The Hedren Fleet arrives hard on the heels of the ground assault. Suddenly you have ground forces holding a position, ones that can engage into local space from the ground, and a fleet jumping in on you. Dimensional warp tech won't hyper in any closer than the ley-line system, which means well outside the life-zone of most systems. Therefore, the fleet has to fight its way in. If they don't have ground force, they then have to make a combat drop on the position. Better to have a secure area for landing. The defenders have to make the choice of engaging the ground forces from space or the incoming fleet."
"Attack from both axes," Tam said.
"Correct, sir," Stewart replied. "It's not just a ground attack, it's a full-court press. Following a successful attack, the planet is then invested by the fleet, more forces are landed and spread out to control the populace and reduce resistance."
"So the ground force portion, except for the fact that it's really heavy and definitely less spread out, is the equivalent of airborne forces dropped behind the lines," Mike said. "They take a major psychological position—if it's a city it's hard to dig them out—then sit on their gains until relieved. They're going to be screwed if the follow-on forces get stopped."
"Nijmegen?" Tam said.
"You're thinking of Arnhem," the former paratrooper said. "Nijmegen was the Eighty-second. I need to get with Takao and see what he thinks are the chances of stopping the incoming fleet. Otherwise, our forces are going to be the Brits. TOE?"
"Himmit have given us a full order of battle for the assault forces as well as for follow-on and the total fleet," Stewart said. "At least, what they believe to be the current TOE on the first two and a pretty good count on the last. They're not sure, though, how much of the latter will be sent to Gratoola."
"Any idea where the attack will occur?" Mike asked. "I mean, in advance."
"Well, there are several possibles," Stewart replied. "The imaginatively named Gratoola City, which is where the capital government buildings reside: the Corridor, which is a big industrial belt . . . There's a pretty good sized list. If you're asking me for a crystal ball hunch: Gratoola City. The Himmit say that a Sohon mentat should be able to detect the field when they generate it, but it's no more than twenty minutes or so before the Hedren emerge. Which I'm given to understand is an energetic event."
"Define energetic," Mike said.
"Big boom," Stewart replied. "The jump displaces all air and other matter in the region they invest. Non-nuclear boom, but you don't want to be right on the spot that they come in. By the same token, sufficient matter disturbs the insertion, sometimes to the Hedren's detriment."
"They go boom?" Wesley asked.
"They go boom," Stewart confirmed. "Or break. Apparently, if you've got a big enough building, instead of blowing up the building they come out on top. Since this tends to break even their CSUs, they generally don't come in on cities. With that parameter, the analysis section came up with a list of probable landing zones for the Hedren for each of the probable targets. I've got a little list."
"Good," Mike said. "So are all the ground assault forces waiting to go on Daga?"
"No," Stewart said. "They were apparently pulled back to Caracool for rest and refit. According to the Himmit, once a planet is initially quelled the shock forces return to rear areas to get prepped for the next mission
. Then they jump, basically, twice. Once to the next jump point, then to the objective. In the meantime, pacification forces, heavy on Glandri and with some Imeg, start filtering in to replace them and start pacifying the populace. There's some combat forces on Daga Nine but mostly it's the new pacification units."
"Get me an Orbatt for those forces," Mike said, turning to his chief of staff. "What about Second Division?"
The "consolidation unit" had been the nearest nearly coherent force to the Hedren attack. Scattered across fifteen worlds, it was slowly being pieced back together.
"We've consolidated them on Darcra," Tam said. "No pun intended. Three-month transit time to Gratoola. But I've seen the efficiency reports. They're not going to be worth much as assault troops. I'd even question their utility at rear area control. Frankly, I don't think sending them straight to Gratoola is wise. I'd rather reconsolidate them with new leadership and put them through a good hard train period."
"Again, well-trained troops elsewhere do us no good," Mike said. "If they die on the sword, they're still going to do some damage. Move them to Gratoola."
"Received and understood," Tam said, trying not to sigh. "And then there's the Legion."
"I thought they were too far out," Mike said.
"Information lag," Tam replied. "The Legion had been consolidated on T-1478 Alpha after an assault there. Their next target was U-2652. Fortunately, a courier caught up with them. I sent orders to have them return to Earth immediately. They should be here in less than a month."
"Time to get them to Gratoola?" Mike asked.
"Two months," Tam said. "You want to send them too? General O'Neal, if you send everything to Gratoola, there won't be anything to cover other planets!"
"If we lose Gratoola they can build another one of these things and then they can go anywhere," Mike pointed out. "And, as has repeatedly been mentioned, it's the capital of the Federation. We're going to hold Gratoola if I possibly can. Less for the latter reason than the former, I'll admit. But holding Gratoola is a must. So, yes, send them to Gratoola. How do they look?"
"Well, it's the Legion, isn't it?" Tam said. "They fight to the death because the alternative is death. Some of the units are pretty good. Overall, they're better than Second Division but not much."
"It's something," Mike said. "Next."
"Status of standing up forces. Brigadier General Richards."
"The conscription system is just getting into gear," General Richards said. With all ground forces federalized under Strike, Mike's J-1 had the unenviable task of overseeing the latter. "There hasn't been a selective service program in decades. It went out after the war. We're using various databases to find qualified personnel, but given all the underground economy . . . Recall of former military is better but not much. We've lost track of a lot of them. Again, it's a matter of combing databases and sending letters by certified mail. We'll get down to sending the local sheriff or whatever if we have to. So far, the majority of those we're pretty sure we found have been showing up. Not that that has been all beer and skittles."
"Why?" Mike asked.
"Well," Richards said, shrugging. "There were a lot of promotions in the war, especially of rejuvs since the ones that got it tended to be . . . Oh, say like the Generalmajor. But just as he ended the war as a field marshall in charge of half the combined European armies and is now back being a major general—"
"We don't have the soldiers to take back all these generals," Tam said. "Not nearly enough. What we need is captains and first sergeants, squad leaders. What we're getting are generals, colonels, very senior sergeant majors . . ."
"Any sergeant major that can't run a squad shouldn't be a sergeant major," Mike said. "Any general that can't remember how to run a company needs to be made a fucking private. Do you get my drift?"
"You're kidding," General Richards said.
"I made Mühlenkampf swallow becoming a major general," Mike said. "Not that he wasn't willing enough. This is a guy who was a general before my father was a gleam in his daddy's eye and who commanded ninety fucking divisions in the war." Mike swallowed for a moment at the mention of his father but plowed on. "That's thirty corps, ten armies, three or four army groups. If he can suck it up the rest can. You will fit them into the TOE as necessary for the good of the service. Do I make myself clear?"
"Oh, this is going to be sooo fun," Richards said. "Yes, sir, you've made yourself perfectly clear."
"Think of it this way," Mike said, shrugging. "Would you rather be sitting in this fucking room or commanding a company or a battalion?"
"Hmmm," Tam said. "Put that way . . ."
"No," Mike replied. "If I don't get a battalion, you don't get a battalion. But what I'd really like is to be a captain again. . . ."
Chapter Eight
"You want me to be a what?"
Brigadier General Thomas Cutprice had only permitted the increase in rank when he retired. What the hell, it was a jump in retirement pay.
During the war, though, he had insisted on never being promoted over colonel. He'd retired once from the Army at that rank, back when the Army had tired of him and vice versa, and he saw no reason to reach for stars. Not that he didn't have the position.
Cutprice had commanded the Ten Thousand, assuredly the most elite, and high casualty, unit defending the U.S. outside of the ACS. The Ten Thousand were picked fighters, all of them with previous combat experience, who used converted Posleen weaponry for that extra spicy punch. Numbering, with supports, well in excess of fifteen thousand personnel, it was unquestionably a division and had the direct combat power of most corps. The commander should have been at least a brigadier general and more likely a major general.
Cutprice had refused to be promoted and nobody was going to push the issue.
But that didn't mean he wanted to be a captain again!
"Look, General, this is happening to everyone," the captain behind the desk said. "Everyone who is being recalled is being given a reduction in rank. You've got some good news, though."
"It better be very good," Cutprice growled.
"Recalled veterans are being given an automatic reduction in rank," the captain repeated. "It's more complicated than any brigadier goes to captain, but it's close enough. But then each of them gets a set of points on the basis of a matrix. The main axis of the matrix has to do with combat command versus other command or staff time. You've got a very high point set; I don't have to look at your record to know that you've had a lot of combat time and a lot of that as a senior commander. That means you get certain choices. Basically, you can use your points to decide what sort of position you prefer, then you can use them to add staff of your choosing. Depends on how many points you have what you can do. Trust me, it will all make sense when you use the system. But be aware that you're going to be bidding for all this."
"That is the screwiest thing . . ." Cutprice said, shaking his head. "You mean you bean-counters are staffing the TOE via E-BAY?"
"More or less," the captain said, smiling faintly. "Not the first time I've heard that, sir. But, sir, you have the highest set of points I've ever seen. Look, let me walk you through it. For your first tour, what you're getting when you finish in-process, do you want a staff position or command of a company?"
"Command, of course," Cutprice said.
"Then you go on the board and check to see what the bids are for company commands, sir," the captain said. "You've got over two thousand points. The last time I checked the board, the high bid for a company, and it was a particular company in a particular unit, was seven hundred points. I checked and the captain making the bid was placing it all on that company. If you just bid for any old company command, those are going for around four hundred points."
"Heh," Cutprice said, nodding. "Former commander wanting to relive his glory days."
"Probably, sir," the captain admitted. "Then you take a look at the recalled personnel board. The highest bid I've seen is for a first sergeant who had a string of medals
and retired as a sergeant major with nearly twenty years in grade! He'd been a first sergeant four times. The high bid last time I checked was fifty-three points. Most sergeants major don't even make it to E-8, they're getting recalled as E-7s."
"I'm beginning to see your, forgive me, point," Cutprice said.
"Sir, you have the most time in a combat command with the most days in combat of the recalls I've seen or checked," the captain pointed out. "At least at your rank. You can write your ticket. Any unit, any personnel. Former sergeants major as platoon sergeants. Majors as platoon leaders. Guys with a string of medals and lots of combat time. Of course, as soon as we get more bodies to fill the slots everyone who has prior experience at a higher rank is probably going to advance really quick. So it's not as bad as it seems."
"A company again," Cutprice said, nodding. He smiled, ever so slightly. "There are worse things in life. Where's this board?"
