by George Olney
Shana noticed the Colonel was using Unispek when she said nepotism. Why? Copio didn't have a word for it?
"I discovered what nepotism was when I was doing research for our operation to replace the current government," Camille said. "Frankly I couldn't believe what I was reading at first, but I was fascinated and really dug into the subject. I'm glad I did because that's why I'm talking to you today. With your original cultural baggage, I'm a bit worried you might not understand just what will be happening around you.
"Shana, if the Legate - man and officer - had to send your unit into a no-win situation, he'd do it as though you weren't in it. The man would mourn you if you were killed. The officer would send you again without a second thought if the situation demanded it. The Legate wouldn't take the relationship between the two of you into account in making personnel decisions, either. Nobody in the Corps would do that. Nepotism is another luxury we can't afford in the family, because we're all family. For a hereditary military to work, we can't take personal considerations into account while on duty.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" she asked quietly.
Shana took a moment to think. Actually, the idea of being treated like any other Gladius appealed to her. She'd never wanted anything but her professional ability and accomplishments to affect her status or future, and definitely not the fact her father was Head of the Guidance Council. That was one of the things she enjoyed about the Corps. It didn't matter to the Corps that her father was the planetary leader. She thought back to how some people in Beauregard treated her with such exquisite care as Narsima Ettranty's daughter and it always made her feel somehow dirty. The idea that nepotism didn't exist in the Corps was a relief.
She looked Camille in the eye. "Given who my father is, I've had to deal with the kind of attitude you describe, Colonel. I've hated it whenever someone thought I was using him for favors. I've also hated it when someone gave me special treatment because I was the daughter of the Head of the Guidance Council. For the record, I've never wanted preference because of birth and it makes me mad when people try. Frankly, I'm glad the Corps is different. Being treated as a junior officer, not as Matic Ettranty's daughter or the Legate's girlfriend, is what I want."
Camille nodded with satisfaction. "I expected you'd say that. Glad to hear it, but expecting it."
Another thought hit Shana. "What about the rest of the Legion? What do they think about the Legate and me?"
Camille laughed. "Girl, you broke all kinds of hearts on Down Day One. The Legate's the most eligible bachelor in the Legion and you've caught him your own not-so-little self. Everyone knew it by the next day, too. Rumor is the only form of news that travels faster than tachyon data packet, and the whole Legion knew about you two before you left his quarters. Actually, I expect your three miscreants knew about your little affair when they were standing in front of your desk. I'm certain Sergeant First Class Steel knew. Decurions know everything.
"Other than a few dashed dreams for some women," she continued, "troops in the Legion won't treat you any differently. Like I said, relationships between differing ranks are normal. Usually the two are closer in rank, but a spread like the two of you have isn't unheard of. Don't worry about it. You've already experienced the way everyone but a few heartbroken women will react, and those girls will survive.
"Just keep on doing your duty like you have and I hope it works out between you and the Legate," Camille finished softly. "It's probably good for the both of you."
Shana was relieved. "Aye, Colonel. Truthfully, I think it is going to work out. I feel differently about him than any other man I've ever known and I'm pretty sure he feels the same way."
Camille smiled. "Good."
Then she got brisk again. "Now I suggest you get back to your collection of ruffians before they do something else to irritate your superior officers. Besides, I understand you have a training schedule and an arms inventory to do today. You probably need to get on them."
That brought Shana back to earth with a crash and a blush. Even the Support Command commander knew about her screw up! Marvelous. That meant Karl did, too. Damn! She stood up. "Aye, Colonel. With your permission?"
Camille was already looking at the hardcopy on her desk. "You have it. Dismissed."
Camille smiled a bit wistfully after Shana left. One of those broken hearts she mentioned was hers. Oh well. There were other fish in the sea. Acting as that girl's mother for a little talk had made her want to have children again. She mentally damned the Emperor for the deaths of her children and husband in the attack that destroyed the Rhiannonithi, but there was only a little heat in it. Wounds had healed in the last two years. She thought about Al Lumis for a moment. Now there was a very interesting individual. Very interesting. Yes, there certainly were other fish in the sea.
#####
When Shana got back to the Century, she found it bustling with far more activity than normal. Captain Samson told her, "We've gotten orders to renew combat certification ASAP, Shana. Get your people together as soon as possible and check all your equipment. Forget the schedule. We aren't going to need it right now. I need any of your platoon shortages and outstanding maintenance problems by COB, after you fix or replace what you can. Be prepared to run the blade range tomorrow morning and weapons range right after. We'll be running a century weave for certification in the big hall at 1700 tomorrow."
Shana nodded. "Aye, Captain. Are we going somewhere, or are there problems on Cauldwell?"
Captain Samson grinned. "Cauldwell's quiet. I expect we'll be seeing new suns very soon, Shana. I really have no idea what's up, but it must be important.
"After you get your platoon working, get over to the arms room. I need status updates on the crew served weapons after you do the inventory."
"Aye," she replied. "Anything else, Captain?"
He shook his head. "Nope. Just another wonderful day in the Corps, Shana. Get done I want done and I'll be happy. Now get going."
Shana headed off to the platoon CP. Sergeant Steel and her decurions could run the shortages and maintenance status. As soon as she started them on that, she was headed to the arms room. Wonder what was up?
#####
The same question was on the minds of the Legion's senior officers as they gathered in the conference room. Every Cohort commander was in the room, along with commanders of the combat support units, the Support Command commander, and key staff. Major Passant was being given some close looks, but he was keeping a poker face and his mouth shut.
Legate Athan was only a few moments behind his commanders. He waved everyone back into their chairs as he strode to the podium at the head of the room. "Short form, people," he began without preamble, "is that the Waltin have decided to grab Labatt from the Cluster. There are about two hundred thousand citizens on it so we're not going to let them have it. Fortunately, the citizens are scattered in enclaves too small to be worth orbital bombardment and the Waltin landing was on an unsettled continent. Makes things convenient. The situation won't remain that way and Frontier Cluster forces have to get there to stabilize it quickly. There's already a Fleet squadron on the way to reinforce the two corvettes usually assigned there on picket. The Fleet intends to keep the Waltin contained and get rid of their space support. Units from the Frontier Cluster Army and the Corps - us, in other words - are going to dig out the Crabs on the ground.
"Crab strength is in the 10K plus category, from what the corvette picket could estimate. They're backed up by a couple of destroyers and several smaller ships," the Legate continued, "and the picket is showing good sense by staying out of their way for the moment.
"This looks like an economy of force operation to see what we'll do. If they expected to really bump heads we'd be seeing a lot more of them. As it is, I think they'll leave us alone if we stamp this incursion flat. SOC has elected the Victrix to do the stamping since the other four legions are currently tied down with subversion, exploration, and other missions."
Colo
nel Albt Lumis of the Fifth Cohort shifted slightly in his chair. He was big, like all male Gladii, but beefy over hard muscle. Like a few, he wore a heavy beard that made him look like some kind of barbarian warrior. That reflected a lot of his personality, too. He grinned and spoke up. "Classic real estate grab. We expected that was going to start, given the dissolution of the Empire. More of the same's coming, too, until everyone realizes the Cluster can take care of itself. The whole Legion?"
Karl looked at him. "Not your boys, Al. I'm only sending one cohort, since the incursion is so small. Second, Third, and Fourth cohorts are pretty well tapped out with the subversion operation. I'm holding you here as reserve since you're still understrength." He turned and looked at First Cohort commander. "Jon, I'm sending your guys with the usual attachments, since you aren't committed too heavily on Cauldwell. Do you want any loaners from Al?"
Jon Protac snorted. "I figured that out from the warning order, Legate. We're prepping for certification now. We ought to be ready to go by tomorrow night, minus the Third Battalion. I've got parts of them out in Beauregard, and I'd rather leave them there."
He looked at Fifth Cohort commander. "Have you got a battalion to spare, Al?"
Al looked at Karl, "If a battalion and a half is okay for a reserve, Legate, I can spare the First."
The Legate nodded. "That'll work. Jon, your cohort will back up the Army brigade being sent from Niad. Those are all new troops, so I expect you'll be doing a lot of backing up, but the Army needs the experience. You're going so they don't get too much of the wrong kind of experience and I expect you'll be doing mostly battalion and century operations. Let the Army do the heavy lifting, but don't be shy if a good target shows up. Make sure every one of your units is briefed in as far as possible with the little we know before you lift. Your launch time is 1400 on Duty Day Three, so you've got some work to do. I'm glad you got a jump on certification."
Karl nodded to Major Passant. "Tom, fill in the details on the crabs would you?"
The major nodded then triggered a holographic display. "Here's a Waltin."
The being in the display did vaguely resemble one of ancient Terra's crabs or one of the analogues found throughout space. The oblong body was encased in an exoskeletal shell, with three legs on each side and two large claws projecting from the front, outside a pair of unshelled flexible tentacles that ended in branching "fingers". A mouth and two eye stalks were between the tentacles. The hologram scale overlay told everyone that the body was approximately two measures long and three across the wide part of the back.
"Corps database says they prefer mass tactics and don't mind casualties," Tom said. "Their armament is about on a par with our own, but they use kinetic projectile weapons. Roughly equivalent to bolt guns, but without the range or terminal damage. Call the effective range of their personal weapons about a quarter kilomeasure. They are most vulnerable at a weak point on the underside, just about in the middle of the shell, but it's hard to hit, given the way they move. Take out a couple of legs on one side and it's a mobility kill. A bolt in the mouth area from the front will pretty well take out the brain or proceed into key organs for a kill. They use those claws for infighting, and they're good with them. Their natural direction of movement is with one side or another forward, much like real crabs, so they won't be facing you unless they're stopped. Biologically, they're obviously descended from aquatic animals, but they only have vestigial gill slits. I doubt if they get wet any more than humans climb trees."
"Good summation," Karl said. "Anything else?"
"Aye," the Intelligence Officer responded. "The Rhiannonithi handled the last incursion about a century ago." He nodded at Camille. "There was a record in the database about one of the Rhiannonithi's night attacks where they used flares and moving lights to distract the target force. Reviewing it, I'm willing to bet the crabs are easily spooked. My recommendation based on analysis is to hit them good and hard. Whenever they were smacked hard enough, they had a tendency to break and run."
"Something to think about," Jon mused aloud. "Get me a packet and I'll ensure it's in our hypno downloads for the voyage to Labatt. Meanwhile, I'll have the First ready to load out by launch time."
Karl nodded. "Good to go. I want the First to have priority on anything they need, supplies, maintenance assistance, anything. Colonel Paten, make sure your folks know that. We haven't tangled with the Predator since the Wareegan, people, but we're about to do it again. Let's get started."
LEGIO IX VICTRIX
LABATT
Shana was impressed by her second ride on a Troop Carrier. There was a little too much emotional baggage involved with her first one for it to register much. The carrier was large enough for a whole legion, including training and support requirements, so she felt like everyone in her single cohort was rattling around in a huge metal box. A huge windowless metal box. This wasn't how she envisioned her first interstellar trip, but it was still an interstellar trip. The idea of landing on Labatt had her excited. A new world!
She and her platoon were next on the load-out, waiting to board their assault shuttle for the trip down to the planet's surface. Shuttles were also carrying rations and equipment, so they only loaded a platoon at a time. The mixed loadouts actually made the operation faster. Since they were headed for an unopposed landing everyone was relaxed, just wanting to get down with a minimum of fuss. Corps SOP said full armor and weapons on any landing not totally administrative, so they were fully kitted out. Nobody expected fighting on the ground, but Shana regarded wearing armor and weapons as good training. Her boys needed a little more armor time, anyhow.
Not that they needed much else, she thought smugly. The platoon had been certified as fast as any in the cohort. That was mostly Sergeant Steel's work, but she and the Sergeant were becoming a smoothly functioning team and the platoon's performance in the training sims on the way here was like a well maintained machine because of it.
Her satisfied musing was interrupted by a call on her helmet com. //"Shana, Samson."//
What the hell? The Captain was already on the dirt with the rest of the Century. //"Go."//
//"You've got a change of orders. You'll be getting the download, but the quick take is you're going to be making a combat drop. The Army has a patrol under pressure. The Army wasn't maintaining a ready response company in case something went wrong, so it'll take them a while to get a unit loaded out to help them. With our offloading posture, we can get a platoon on the scene faster. That's you, since you're just now boarding. Cohort says to get the patrol out of trouble, and that's your mission. Let me know immediately if you need help, and don't be coy about asking. Third Century is next to move. They'll go on station with you if you need them, but you've got to develop the situation first."//
Shana stifled a gulp. From administrative landing to combat mission in thirty seconds. Another wonderful day in the Corps. She waved Sergeant Steel over. Time to get busy. They had to be ready to hit a hot LZ by the time they planeted. //"Understood, Captain. Give me a few minutes with my decurion and we'll be ready to go."//
//"One other thing, Shana. The Valeria has an advisor with that patrol, a Sergeant Koonz. He's your point of contact. Get with your POC on the way down. He'll be expecting a call. Probably praying for one if the situation's like I expect."//
//"Got it, Captain. Sergeant Steel's here with me now. We'll be lifting in about five mikes."//
//"Aye. Copy five minutes. Just get into that shuttle and on the way as fast as possible. Do good, Shana."//
#####
On the landing pad below, Captain Samson put his helmet com on standby and looked at his First Sergeant. They were both in armor with visors raised, so the only thing he saw cleanly was the First Sergeant's face. It was as concerned as his. "Am I crazy, Top? I just launched a brand new single pip that's had her - note use of the word 'her' - platoon less than a month on an independent mission to unfuck a situation for an allied force. Oh, and let's not forget we don't know just how m
any crabs she's facing and I'm stuck here on an entirely different continent until the Army gets its head out of its ass and scares up transport of some kind."
The First Sergeant took a deep breath then shrugged, telling himself they were doing the right thing. Yeah. Uh-huh. But he had to calm his boss down, even if the Captain's estimate of the situation was dead on the mark. "If she's what we've got, Captain, she's what we've got. Cohort gave the orders, so I guess they're sweating bullets along with you."
The Captain gave a wry smile that belied the tension eating at him. "Somehow that's not a big help."
The First Sergeant gave his commander a look of grim confidence. He knew he could believe in one person in this triple-damned mess. Well, two, hopefully. "Steel's one of the best Captain, trust me on that. Lieutenant Ettranty's good, too. She hasn't got much experience, but she's got good judgment and that'll go a long way. You can rely on Sergeant Steel to keep her straight."
Captain Samson nodded, more in acknowledgment than agreement. Then he took a deep breath of his own and let it out explosively. Top was right, but everything in him screamed to get the rest of his century out there and help Fourth platoon. One of his units was about to be dropped in the shit and he couldn't get to them.
He looked angrily around at the nearly barren permacrete landing pad. It wasn't worth triple damn to him at the moment since there wasn't transport on the ground for his century, much less anyone else's. If Fleet wasn't in control of the high orbitals, the apron wouldn't have even been in one piece, but Tanner Samson was in no mood to count his blessings. Not after some Fleet asshole had decided that an administrative landing could be done just as well by shuttling units down with "minimum necessary resources", meaning most shuttles were in ship stowage at the moment. "Let's go find that fucking so-called transportation officer," he growled. "See if she's even got a garbage scow somewhere, for Lord Above's sake!"
