Theirs Not to Reason Why 4: Hardship

by Jean Johnson

  Mattox listened politely as she outlined her latest set of battle plans, carefully pointing out all the advantages and rare few disadvantages of each. He listened—frowning, but he listened—while she explained the far fewer advantages and far greater disadvantages of his own most recent series of battle plans. All of which she carefully recorded on her arm unit, along with his response. It came after a deep breath and a wry smile from the brigadier general.

  “Well. I certainly appreciate how much thought and effort you have put into your arguments,” Mattox stated politely, tipping his head ever so slightly. “However, your job was to handle the Feyori threat. Since you seem to have chased them off, and ensured ways for us to avoid being taken over by their meddlings in the future . . . your services and attempts at advising a ground-based war are no longer necessary, Ship’s Captain.”

  “I have also been directed by the Admiral-General to assist you in removing the Salik presence from Dabin within the next month,” Ia reminded him, keeping her tone as polite as she could, in the face of what she knew was coming. “I have offered you several battle plans to achieve this goal over the last few weeks, plans which have been low on risks and casualty rates and high in probabilities of success. Each one has been adapted to the needs of that moment, the terrain involved, the personnel and equipment available, and tailored to reduce the risks to life and limb for soldiers and civilians alike, sir, as the Admiral-General requested of me.”

  “I have been placed in charge of all military matters on Dabin, Ship’s Captain Ia,” Brigadier General Mattox stated crisply, coldly. “Your services are no longer required. Withdraw yourself from my Headquarters . . . and withdraw your Company from my battle zone.”

  Ia drew in a breath to remind him of one salient point. He cut her off before she could.

  “That is an order, Ship’s Captain. Dismissed.”

  And that is your fatal mistake, General. Sealing her lips on any possible reply—on any possible acknowledgment of his order, for that matter—Ia rose from the chair across from his and left his office. The obnoxious woman was on duty in the outer office. From the smirk on her face, Major Perkins had heard her CO’s words, or at least had been forewarned of his plans in advance. Ia ignored the other woman aside from that one quick, assessing look.

  Once she was out in the hall, she tucked her headset in place and activated her arm unit. “Captain Ia to all Damned personnel at Army Headquarters. Report to the parking garage immediately. I repeat, report to the parking garage immediately.” She kept her voice low, barely above a subvocal murmur. “Ia out.”

  She took the stairs down out of homeworld habit. Not the same stairs she and Private Sunrise had used on their first visit, but instead a different set, one that went all the way down into the underground garage located beneath the appropriated office building. Two levels down was where Sunrise had brought the hovervan with the hyperrelay unit tucked inside, picked up in exchange for her hoverbike when she had gone back for Ia’s uniform and half glittery.

  Private Floathawg had taken over the bike with some glee, according to Mara. The part-time clerk wasn’t overly attached to the machine, though it had been useful at the time; her teammate, on the other hand, loved the things. Ia didn’t mind giving it up; she had two solid reasons for appropriating the van and its cargo. Not to transport herself and the handful of psis who had come to help with the Feyori problem, not to take them away from Headquarters as ordered by the Army Division’s head, but for something more important.

  Something much more awkward. Sighing roughly, she lifted her chin at Mara, who was lounging by the back doors. The private opened the panels, revealing the relay occupying most of the cargo area. Ia took her place in front of the control panel, and warmed up the machine. By the time the device was ready, the others had gathered behind their silent, grim commanding officer, dropping into modified versions of At Ease and Parade Rest. Pressing the last key, Ia listened to the hydrogenerator whining faintly as the relay strove its best to project a tiny pinpoint hyperrift all the way to Earth from deep inside the vacuum-sealed depths of the machine.

  Admiral John Genibes was not particularly happy to see her when his face finally flashed onto the hyperrelay screen, but he didn’t do more than sigh. “Ship’s Captain, Ia. Which is it this time, fire, famine, or flood?”

  Ia didn’t respond to his weak attempt at a joke. Lifting her arm unit into view, she flipped open the lid and touched the buttons inside. “Admiral Genibes. I am synching my arm unit’s latest recordings to you on subchannel beta, along with several pertinent files. They contain the results of my last meeting with Brigadier General José Mattox, commanding officer of the Army’s 1st Division, 6th Cordon here on Dabin.”

  She had to pause to ensure the entire meeting had fully uploaded, but she also used the seconds to take a discreet, bracing breath. Finally, Genibes nodded. “. . . Yes, I’ve got it. I take it there’s a specific reason why you’ve sent me this recording while I’m in a meeting with several generals of the Army, all of whom are listening in as we speak?”

  Squaring her shoulders, Ia nodded and clasped her hands behind her back. Truthfully, she hadn’t considered those reasons; she had merely checked the timestreams to make sure she wasn’t presenting this report at an utterly inappropriate moment. If those generals had not been with Genibes, then they would have found out about it in swift order anyway, as this report had to be made, regardless.

  “Admiral, Generals, yes, sirs,” she stated crisply. It wasn’t entirely a lie even if it wasn’t entirely a truth. “I have uploaded both the results of my latest meeting with the brigadier general in question for your immediate perusal, as well as all available records of my activities from the point of landing on Dabin up to this meeting to your data files regarding my and my Company’s activities.

  “With this unaltered, unexpurgated, unedited information placed in your hands, it is my regret-filled duty to inform the Command Staff, in my very carefully considered estimation as an officer and a duly acknowledged precognitive . . . that Brigadier General José Mattox is no longer fit for command of the 1st Division, 6th Cordon Army,” she finished after taking a steadying breath.

  She had more to say, but waited the full five seconds of lag time. As the highest probabilities had predicted, the other men and women meeting with Genibes began exclaiming and arguing off-screen. Behind her, she could hear Privates Mk’nonn, Jjones, Yarrin, Theam, and Rayne shifting restlessly, though none of them said a word. Private Sunrise neither spoke nor moved. Then again, she’d been privy to more of the problems behind the scenes than the psis had and was smart enough that this moment probably didn’t come as a surprise.

  The babble on the other side of the comm link, that was Ia’s main concern. Not her troops’ reactions. Genibes allowed it to continue for several long seconds, then cut through the heated arguments of the others with a few choice words of his own, mostly a demand for silence while he interrogated his subordinate. When the unseen generals were quiet again, he faced Ia’s image on his own viewscreen, scowling at her.

  “Ship’s Captain Ia, this is a very serious accusation for anyone to make. It is all the more serious for someone not placed within the brigadier general’s chain of command. Are you sure that you wish to make this accusation, with all the attendant investigations that will be required for it?”

  “Admiral Genibes, I have no choice left but to make it,” Ia said grimly. She could feel the anger starting to boil again within her over this whole mess but shoved it back down, leaning on her sense of duty to keep her outward self reasonably calm. “Brigadier General Mattox has consistently and repeatedly shown not just an inability to grasp superior tactics as best adapted to the 1st Division’s actual circumstances, but an outright refusal to consider any tactics or strategies other than his own. He has done so in the face of tactical analyses that have shown his plans will decimate the 1st Division’s ranks by a casualt
y rate of one-half to two-thirds,” Ia stated, listing all her reasons. “He has done so repeatedly in the face of several offered plans which would each reduce the 1st Division’s casualty lists to less than one-tenth its current attrition rate.

  “He has refused to accept advice tendered to him by a Space Force–acknowledged precognitive and battlecognitive of the highest rank. He has refused to acknowledge that this advice was tendered because this precognitive was ordered to give it by a member of the Command Staff, being yourself, and ordered by the Admiral-General herself to provide said advice, being her command to help remove the Salik presence from Dabin in a timely and lifesaving manner.”

  She paused, squared her shoulders, and gave the last damning bit, the straw that would break Mattox’s back.

  “And he had the temerity to not only dismiss said precognitive advisor, being myself, but to order my Company and I, being the A and B Companies, 1st Legion, 1st Battalion, 1st Brigade, 1st Division, 9th Cordon Special Forces, to remove ourselves from Army Headquarters and quit the battlefields of Dabin immediately. Brigadier General Mattox’s order qualifies as a direct nonchain countermand to my and my Company’s standing orders from our superiors in our chain of command.

  “He has done so to my face while I wore this uniform, my Dress Grays, without consulting with any member of the Command Staff, let alone my immediate superiors in the proper chain of command. Brigadier General Mattox of the Space Force Army has taken upon himself to exercise a level of authority over the Branch Special Forces which he does not possess, sirs, in addition to demonstrating a palpable inability to grasp the shifting needs and carefully husbanded resources of a battlefield command. He is unfit for his duties, sirs. If he is not removed from his position and replaced immediately—and I say this as a Space Force–acknowledged precognitive of documented accuracy—he will be responsible for losing the entire planet of Dabin, civilians and soldiers alike, to enemy hands and enemy appetites.

  “I repeat, this is no joke, sirs. This is a very serious charge.” She kept her chin square, her gaze level, as Genibes and the officers unseen on the other end of the comm link considered her statements.

  The Admiral shook his head after eight or so seconds. “Are you prepared, Captain Ia, to undergo the same level of scrutiny that your accusation of fitness for command will engender? Any accusation that a commander is unfit for his post requires the accuser’s own career and choices to also be heavily examined.”

  “I am prepared, sir. While I am not the only Space Force officer on Dabin who feels that Brigadier General Mattox is unfit for command, sir,” Ia stated, “I am the one officer best placed to make these accusations. I have spoken with more than one Army officer who has expressed similar sentiments since arriving on Dabin and assessing the Army’s position as a combat-trained and tactically experienced officer. Most understandably, they have hesitated to speak up against their Division commander. They have the loyalties of their troops and the concerns of their duties weighing on their minds and staying their hands.

  “Being outside their immediate chain of command, I have been free to assess the situation without concern for my own rank and standing . . . and because I am outside the Army Division in question, any repercussions that may fall upon myself, and my Company as a consequence, will not harm the Army’s efforts any further than the brigadier general’s own failures already have. However, the brigadier general’s choices have already had grave impacts on the lives and strategies of the soldiers sent to defend Dabin from the Salik invasion. In good conscience, I must stand by my accusation, sirs, whatever the consequences to myself and my career.

  “I state once more for the record as an officer and a precognitive, sirs, that Brigadier General Mattox of the 1st Division, 6th Cordon TUPSF Army is unfit for command, and must be removed immediately for the good of the Army’s war efforts here on Dabin,” she finished.

  Admiral Genibes sat back in his seat with a rough sigh. “Lovely,” he muttered. “Over half the stuff you have done is Ultra Classified, Captain . . . Generals,” he addressed the men and women off-screen, “would it be acceptable to you, as members of the Army, if we limited investigating Ship’s Captain Ia’s own activities strictly to her time on Dabin? She has an Ultra Class A clearance level for a reason, most of which has taken place off-world, and most of which will have no bearing whatsoever upon the situation on Dabin concerning her accusations.”

  The assent came in a ragged set of murmurs. Ia spoke up before Genibes could turn back to her.

  “I have also uploaded all pertinent personal recordings to your data files for virtually my entire time here, Admiral,” she reminded him. “But I must state at this time that I am missing two periods of recorded time. One period was due to the disabling of my arm unit in combat on a solo mission. I was able to augment some of the recordings from enemy surveillance footage and the arm unit of one of my privates, who joined me at the end of my mission, but during those four-plus hours I could not, I have no immediately accessible means of independently confirming my activities.

  “The other period . . . I was negotiating with the Feyori to mitigate their interference on Dabin, part of which includes the direct mental Meddling with Brigadier General José Mattox’s mind, a fact of which he has been apprised and which he has chosen to dismiss as not an ongoing concern. As a consequence, my arm unit was unable to record anything for approximately seven hours of the earlier stages of those negotiations. It also could not record some of the telepathically conducted conversations that took place.

  “I was able to transcribe most of the missing information, and have sent that on to your data caches as well, but there is no other record than my own written report, sir,” Ia confessed. “I mention it not only for the Meddling with Mattox’s mind, but because the involvement of the Feyori on Dabin contains Ultra Classified material of a potentially disruptive nature for those who do not know the particulars of why that meeting had to take place. I therefore respectfully suggest that the inquest into my actions be a closed investigation made by those members of the Command Staff with a Class A rating.”

  “We will take that under advisement, Ship’s Captain,” the Admiral replied neutrally. “Anything else?”

  “Sir, yes, sir. My Company and I cannot be dismissed from our assigned duties by Brigadier General Mattox, nor can any of my orders from you or your superior be countermanded by a non–Command Staff officer from another Branch,” Ia reminded him, speaking quickly to cover the two and a half seconds of lag from her to him. From the way he opened his mouth to say more, then subsided, she had spoken in time. “Under the discretionary powers I was given by the Admiral-General herself, the majority of A Company, 9th Cordon has been placed under the command of Commander Meyun Harper, which is why I specifically mentioned my command having been split into A and B Companies.

  “They are currently undertaking the task of breaking up the Salik invasion forces in preparation for pushing them off this planet, which is the task we were ordered to undertake by yourself and the Admiral-General. As a result, I have less than a Squadron of soldiers under my direct command in B Company here at Army Headquarters. What are your orders for my full Company, now that I have made these accusations, sir?”

  He frowned, thinking about it. “You said everyone but you and a handful are in the field under Commander Harper?”

  “Yes, sir. They are currently undertaking covert operations deep within enemy territory, Admiral. I have no means of contacting them for the next two days without a high probability of alerting the enemy to their presence. I would rather not lose them to an unexpected and utterly unnecessary lunch date, sir,” she stated flatly. “But I will attempt to pull them out of combat if you request it. That is what the brigadier general tried to order me to do . . . but I obviously cannot follow his orders, sir.”

  John Genibes twisted his mouth, as if tasting something sour. He tapped his screen for several seconds, re
ading something, then addressed her question.

  “. . . Pull them out after they have completed their current mission, Captain, when it is appropriately safe to do so. Take up residence in the capital near Army Headquarters. Your Company will be placed on Modified Leave under your command once they have been extracted as per Section 119, paragraphs b and c, and you yourself shall be placed on Restricted Leave, Section 119, paragraphs f, g, and j, from this moment until further notice,” he instructed her. “Continue to record everything you do, and expect to hear from me at approximately this time tomorrow, Terran Standard . . . whatever that translates as in Dabin time.”

  “Sir, yes, sir. For the record, I am sorry I had to do this,” she offered, softening her tone for a moment. “I would far rather have had Mattox’s cooperation in salvaging this whole mess. One last thing, Admiral. As a duly registered and acknowledged precognitive, I warn you that this matter must be resolved by the start of this July, Terran Standard. If it is not, this planet will fall, and we will all bear the burden of all the lives that will be lost. Furthermore, my Company and I must be on board our next ship by the end of July, or many more worlds will be lost. You are of course free to accept my warnings or not, as is your prerogative. All I can do is give them to you, with the same accuracy with which I have always given them.”

  “Again, we will take all of that under advisement, Ship’s Captain. You have your new orders. Genibes out,” he instructed her. Leaning forward, he tapped the link off.

  Mindful of the eyes watching her, Ia sighed slowly, quietly. She tried to release the tension in her back muscles subtly; this was not the moment to show weakness in front of her own troops even if there were only a handful of them. Predictably, it was Private Sunrise who broke the silence.

  “Well, as far as shova-storms go, sir, that wasn’t too bad,” Mara offered mildly. “And Modified Leave is still Leave. I’m sorry yours is Restricted, but that’s still better than what that one certain sergeant we both know of went through.”