Commodore

by Phil Geusz

  I paced and paced and paced. One of the Professor's favorite quotations came from a man named Chesty Puller, perhaps the most colorful general of marines in all history. At a time of great crisis, the press asked him if the division he commanded in a place called Korea was retreating. "Hell, no!" he replied. "We're just advancing in the other direction!" The Professor had gone on to make a lesson out of the whole affair; in some ways the marines had been doing exactly as claimed, from both a strategic and tactical point of view. The maneuver had in the end proven amazingly successful. Perhaps the same principle could be applied here and now? Maybe I couldn't seize and hold Wilkes Prime. But could I take another Wilkes world as a lesser trophy? Or even a nearby Imperial one?

  Then I examined the chart and shook my head. Wilkes Prime would be too good—and too close!—an Imperial base to allow me to keep much of anything I took. They'd swat me like a fly at their leisure, whenever they felt good and ready. No, I'd not be taking any planets in this part of space anytime soon. Or at least not if I wanted to keep them. Wilkes Prime, with its large energy industry and the support facilities it'd developed for its huge merchant fleet, was the key to the whole region. With its infrastructure at their disposal the Imperials could romp about at will for a distance of five, perhaps even six Jumps. Nothing within that radius would be safe from them.

  Well, I thought as I paced. If I couldn't invade, then perhaps I could take advantage in other ways of the fact that I knew where to expect the main battle line to appear sometime soon. For example, Javelin was purpose-built as a deep-penetration raider. We'd barely put a dent in her cruising range; I could detach the landing force, send them home for another commander in another sector to make good use of, and go raiding again! Yes, the convoys were escorted now. But only by small forces, intended to deter a weaker ship like Richard. Defending them against something like Javelin wasn't economically feasible. My new command was capable of blowing light escort vessels out of the sky from tremendous range, then slaughtering their charges en masse like a wolverine let loose in a henhouse. Given that I knew where the enemy would not be, at least for a time, I could run amok in the Imperial shipping lanes, even keeping the destroyers with me to assist with the looting until their limited ranges dictated that they had to turn for home…

  Then I stopped and sighed, shaking my head. This was Javelin's proper role, yes. But it wasn't my proper role, nor was it the mission I'd been ordered to accomplish. As much as I relished the thought of gallivanting off across Imperial space with such a magnificent weapon at my disposal, I knew perfectly well that James wouldn't approve. To a degree my fame and reputation had become a ball and chain; His Majesty would far rather me return home to Earth Secundus to be given another highly-responsible if not-so-much-fun command than disappear for a year or so. So, while I might well yet choose to detach Javelin for raiding I'd no longer be in command of her when she left.

  I paced and paced and paced, mind a-whirl. The core of the problem was Wilkes Prime. Damn her strategic location and ship-support capabilities! The planet had massive energy-farms, huge hangers, abundant drydock space, an impressive surface-to-orbit shuttle fleet, and above all a workforce of thousands upon thousands of skilled spacers who could rapidly make any repair from a simple hull-breach to a totally-slagged engine room. I shook my head in disgust, picturing this small army of technicians servicing Imperial ships instead of our own. Couldn't they see that they were working against their own best interests? Helping to cast a pall of darkness upon the entire future of Man? But they couldn't, of course. Instead, antlike, they just slaved away…

  Then suddenly I froze where I stood. Slaved away?

  Just how many of these vital workers were Rabbits, I wondered? Then I checked the local almanac…

  …and yes, it was possible. The odds were promising, even! But oh! The potential cost! Could it—could anything be worth the bloodletting I was considering unleashing? Maybe, I mused. There was going to be a lot of bleeding going on no matter what I did, after all. That sort of went hand-in-hand with long, interminable wars. And, perhaps there were ways to keep the bloodletting to a minimum?

  In the big picture, maybe this was even the best way to minimize the bloodletting everywhere?

  Then, at long last I smiled. Years ago, Professor Lambert had suggested to his wargaming team that the Empire might be vulnerable to rapid social change. This was because it was too rigid and hierarchical to adapt. Most of his theories had worked out pretty well when applied in the real world, so far at least. Perhaps it was time to give this one a try as well? The moment seemed right, in many, many ways. It might've been largely by chance, but all the right factors were in the right place at the right time. Where I'd been convinced that I was looking at an inevitable setback, all the time the elements of victory on the grandest scale imaginable had been sitting there waiting for me to discern them. Go for broke! the gamer within me screamed. It's time to cut the enemy's heart out and eat it.

  Best of all, I knew that James would support me even though I was about to break the rules in a major way by grossly overstepping my authority as a naval officer. For at heart he was a gamer too.

  17

  By six in the morning I'd written up all of my orders and was ready to face the demands of a new day. "Good morning," I greeted my bridge crew as I walked across the deck and sat in my command chair. Almost instantly, a bunny-steward appeared with a cup of steaming, fragrant tea. I'd never asked for such service when I arrived on the bridge, I suddenly realized. Yet it happened every single time. So Nestor must've arranged for it. Or Josiah perhaps. Good and thoughtful friends, both of them.

  "Good morning, sir," Josiah replied with a smile. He looked sharp and well-rested, which was just as well as we were all about to have a very busy day. He eyed the large portfolio I'd carried onto the bridge with me, but said nothing. It was stuffed with various documents and paperwork, most of which I hoped I wouldn't have to show but probably would before the day was done. "I hope you slept well."

  "Yes, thank you," I answered, even though it was a lie. Captains learned early on that their health was always peachy-keen whenever anyone asked, or else the rumors crawled up and down the corridors like cockroaches. I took a couple sips of tea to wet my throat; if I wanted to back down from my planned course of action, this was the last possible moment. But everything still made as much sense as it had in the wee hours of the morning, so I started giving orders. "Josiah," I began. "Get me Commander von Schtolen on a scrambled channel please. And Captain Harlowe, as well. Priority One." It should've been a routine request. But somehow everyone knew that it was something more. For the first time in far too long, a little wave of excitement washed across the bridge. I could only hope the ripples spread even further; a ship with a definite mission is a happy ship.

  'Priority One' meant that the officers in question were to find a viewscreen and report immediately, no matter their personal situation. So I didn't even blink when Heinrich responded wearing a t-shirt and with his hair still all awry from sleep. Harlowe, however, was an earlier riser—he was at least in his uniform shirt, though he hadn't donned a tie yet. "Yes sir?" Harlowe, as the senior officer, replied for them both.

  "How many hours are we from executing Plan Charlie?" I demanded.

  My fellow captain blinked—Plan Charlie had been our least-likely scenario, in which our forces landed not knowing whether they'd be fired upon or not. In many ways, therefore, it was the most complex and difficult-to-execute plan. "About five, sir," Harlowe replied. At least he was competent at maintaining readiness, if not as a combat leader. For no landing officer lacking in confidence would've offered me such a daring, lowball figure.

  "Good," I replied. Then I turned to Heinrich. "What's the status on Toehold?"

  He smiled. It was standard Royal practice to embed a few elite, highly-trained specialists and saboteurs before a landing whenever possible. In this case, we'd also infiltrated about a dozen fencible Rabbit-marines under Heinrich's favori
te midshipman while they were ostensibly loading urgently-needed ship's stores. The last I'd heard, they were waiting for orders in a safe-house loaned to us by the House of Vorsage. "They'll be ready when called upon, sir," he replied calmly. "I just updated their standing orders before breakfast."

  I nodded again; that explained why such a workaholic wasn't up and dressed already. "I'm afraid we may have to change those orders, Heinrich." Their original role had been to surreptitiously set up landing beacons and the like.

  He nodded slightly, even though last-minute order-changes were every officer's worst nightmare. "Yes, sir. Of course. However, the sooner the better."

  "I'll take care of it right now. Your men are already in Wilkes City. I want them to accomplish two special missions for me, and I leave the means entirely to your discretion. Gentlemen, from this moment forward the House of Wilkes is to be considered a hostile power; we as thoroughly at war with them as we are with the Imperials. Do you understand?"

  Another wave of excitement rolled across the bridge, and this time I was certain the ripples would spread. "Yes, sir!" Harlowe acknowledged after a long silence. "But—"

  I spoke right over him, not caring to explain myself further. "We're going to execute the most efficient surprise attack possible, excepting only that our landing forces will not fire unless first fired upon. The tactical goal is to have the battle won before the fighting even really begins, and above all to capture the planetary defensive installations in as intact a state as possible. We're going to execute at exactly noon, ship's time. Not a hint of our true purpose is to be leaked to the Wilkes people. Do you understand me? Not a whisper! They mustn't have a clue until we launch the first wave of assault craft."

  Now both Heinrich and Harlowe were staring at me as if I'd gone mad. Yet… Didn't they understand that this was ultimately what we'd come so far to do? "His Majesty," I explained, "will tolerate the insolence of this House no longer. Their power is to be utterly and forever broken, though as an expression of His mercy we'll keep collateral damage to the minimum." I turned to Heinrich. "I presume the Toehold people are equipped with at least one nuclear demolition mine? That is still standard practice, no?"

  "They have two, sir," he replied.

  I nodded, that'd be more than adequate. "Then their orders have indeed changed. Our main attack launches at noon; at ten till, our Toehold people will nuke the Palace of the House of Wilkes employing both warheads, without the slightest advance warning. Having studied the schematics I suggest emplacing them just outside the security perimeter at the north and south gates, but that'll be your affair. Then, insofar as they can, they're to seal off every last communication line to and from the capitol. Forget the landing beacons; we'll have to make do without them. I don't expect miracles, but the more confusion they create the better. It'll pay enormous dividends in lives ultimately spared." Finally I turned to Josiah. "All task force commanders are to meet here in the briefing room in one hour for further orders. Commander Von Schtolen is exempted—he's going to be plenty busy with other matters, I expect." I raised my eyes to the viewscreen. "So far this has been a peacetime cruise, gentlemen. But that's all over, as of right now.

  "We're about to begin earning our pay."

  18

  And thus the deluge began. From that moment forward, I found myself drowning in a tidal wave of officers who urgently, legitimately needed to see me about an endless series of details which required my personal approval. It would've been awful for anyone, but it was even worse for a Rabbit because we naturally dislike being the center of attention. At least it was reassuring, in a way. My task force was accelerating from zero to all-out war in six hours, but at least we had standby plans and a firm, unshakable chain of command in place. The House of Wilkes would have neither factor going for them, or so I hoped. Certainly they wouldn't once their central command authority consisted of a bunch of irradiated corpses buried in broken masonry. So, the chaos their leader would face was going to be immeasurable. The more bewildered the enemy, the less destructive the fighting would be. That was the whole point of a sneak attack, after all.

  Josiah took me aside about that one; while it might not've been proper for another first officer to do so, his age and our long relationship gave him the right. "Sir," he said softly as we walked down the corridor towards the hastily-convened commander's meeting. We were five minutes late, but that was all right. Whippoorwill's boat had experienced launch problems, so her commander was running an excusable fifteen minutes behind schedule himself. Josiah wasn't one to let the remaining ten unclaimed minutes go to waste. "May I speak to you in private for a moment?"

  "Of course," I replied. Sick bay was just ahead, so I commandeered an unused treatment room. "What can I do for you, old friend?"

  "Sir…" He said softly, unable to meet my eyes. "I've always admired you, even long before we met. But..."

  I nodded. "But you think I'm planning this battle more like an Imperial officer than a Royal one?"

  He smiled. "That's… One way of putting it. Sir, we've only just begun talking with the Wilkes people. What you're proposing to do here is, well… You're in essence executing an entire Noble House, sir. That's never been done before, much less without a trial. And the innocent casualties from the palace-bombing!" He shook his head. "This isn't like you."

  I nodded again. "Josiah… I respect you more than you know, and now more than ever. For what it's worth, I've written both His Majesty and my uncle about your service to the throne, and it's my firmest hope that you'll receive a commensurate reward. I've also already drawn up orders for you take over command of Javelin and captain her on the kind of raiding mission that'll be written about in letters of fire. They're waiting right in here." I lifted my portfolio and waggled it at him, then looked hard and deep into his eyes. "But I need for you to trust me, Josiah, and support me one-hundred percent until then. Everyone else is going to be asking themselves exactly the same questions that you are, and they're going to be looking to the men who know me best for reassurance that I've not gone over the edge." I paused and licked my nose, then looked down at my portfolio again. "You don't have all the facts, Josiah, and the more I tell you the more I endanger our kingdom and everyone in it. The full truth may never come out; in fact, I rather doubt that it will. Perhaps I'll go down in history as a sinister figure after all, but duty is duty and I swear to you that I've both moral justification and legal authority for what's about to happen. Most of the officials in that building won't live long no matter what I do at this point. They've condemned themselves beyond all reprieve. And while I bleed for the innocent, even more innocents are dying elsewhere and will keep right on dying in uncounted masses until this entire historical cycle is broken." I looked down at my feet. "Damnit, Josiah! I'm just a naval officer, not a deity who can command lightning bolts from the sky that kill only the unjust! I have to make use of the resources and abilities I have at hand, not those I might wish for."

  Josiah nodded slowly. "I see."

  "No you don't," I corrected him. "You can't see, based on what you know. But you can trust me, and that's good enough." I sighed and shook my head. "At any rate, in three days or so you'll be captain of Javelin and on your way into Imperial space. The last man to command this ship on such a raid was a high-ranking nobleman. He did his job well, and I'll speak no ill of him. But you're a fencible officer without so much as a drop of blue blood in your veins, like most of the rest of us. So make us proud, Josiah. Please? For the sake of all of us commoners everywhere?"

  "Yes, sir!" he muttered, clearly moved. "Thank you!"

  I smiled—it felt good, being as it was likely to be the only one I'd wear all day. "So go ahead and begin making your plans, whenever you can find a spare moment. There's one key factor you should consider, though. It's something I dare not commit to writing, and which I fear that you can never, ever let the Imperials know I told you. At the cost of your life, if necessary."

  His eyebrows rose. "Sir?"

 
"When you leave this system, I suggest that you immediately penetrate deep and hard into Empire space. It should be perfectly safe, if you take an indirect route. Because I expect their main battle fleet to show up here at almost any moment, you see. Most likely, they'll remain in this vicinity for quite some time thereafter."

  19

  My commanders meeting went both quickly and well, once everyone arrived. "We're at war with the House of Wilkes," I explained the situation to them all, just as I had to the bridge crew, and briefed them on our impending landing. Then I handed out the envelopes. "Here are your individual orders. Are there any questions?"

  I watched my combat leaders closely indeed as they opened their paperwork and studied what lay within. Most of them received very simple instructions—I'd commanded three of my destroyers to prepare themselves to refuel from their fellows; though their orders didn't say so, they'd be detached to escort Javelin for as long as they were able. Another—Whippoorwill—I'd ordered to prepare for an immediate high-speed run home with urgent despatches, which would include Sir Jason's coded report. But the troop transports… That was another story.

  "Sir!" Captain Harlowe protested halfway through his reading. "How can you… I mean…"

  "I agree that it's not standard policy to detach a marine force from its transport vessels," I replied. "In fact, I don't know that it's ever been done at all before. It's almost axiomatic—the marines occupy, the army garrisons and defends. But I find myself in urgent need of a garrison, you see. And there's no army troops anywhere to be found."

  "It's… It's a bloody waste, sir!" Harlowe stuttered. "These men have trained… I mean, there's all the specialists to consider!"

  "You can keep the boat pilots," I agreed, gesturing with a placating hand. "And their support-section as well. But as for the rest…" I sighed. "When you read a little further, you'll see that I'm expecting you to land all but a handful of your sick-bay personnel, too. Plus the ordnance Rabbits. And all their associated gear."