Merkiaari Wars: 02 - What Price Honour

by Mark E. Cooper

  Burgton glanced at Stone where he sat at his ease between Hymas and Flowers. The three musketeers… he smiled as he remembered how they came by that appellation. They had been inseparable in the early days of the regiment’s inception, and had saved each other’s lives many times since. Three closer friends would be very hard to find.

  He leaned forward and raised the jug. “More coffee, Ken? Anyone?”

  Stone shook his head. “I’m sloshing already. Thank you, sir.”

  Flowers and Hymas also shook their heads, they hadn’t finished theirs. Burgton poured himself a fresh cup, crossed his legs, and sat back to savour it.

  “You know, I think this might actually be good for them,” Colonel Flowers said, going through the latest data on one of the recruits. “Look here.”

  Burgton took the offered compad and raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm. I see what you mean. Fuentez’ scores have risen almost two points across the board. Is it the competition do you think?”

  “Could be, but I think it has more to do with teaching the others. Teaching students always makes you think about things.”

  “Her scores have always been high, but now…” he shook his head. “Give her another year and she’ll be top of her platoon.”

  “Richmond will always be top, sir,” Stone said.

  Burgton raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that, Ken?”

  “Richmond is a killer, Fuentez is not. She isn’t ruthless enough.”

  “And you think being ruthless is important enough to make the difference, Ken?”

  “I do, sir. Fuentez is good, there’s no question about that. Maybe good enough to best me even, but of Richmond I have no doubt.”

  “High praise,” Flowers murmured.

  “Just stating the facts, Colonel,” Stone said just a little stiffly. “I have no favourites.”

  “No one is suggesting that, Ken.” Burgton tapped a finger against the edge of the compad he was holding. “It’s a little early to be talking graduation here, but I would like to get a feel for how the regiment is shaping up. Marion?”

  “Sir?”

  “You’ve said very little.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Lieutenant Hymas said. “I was reviewing her record. I agree with Ken. Richmond is a killer, but she always was. Her enhancement has done wonders for her temperament. She used to be a disruptive influence on all those around her, but now she channels her energy toward the benefit of her squadmates.”

  “Example?”

  “The Steiner simulation comes immediately to my mind. Richmond allowed herself to be seen and killed so the others could penetrate the base.”

  “Hmmm.” Burgton frowned not sure he liked that. “Self sacrifice is a noble thing, but is it desirable in an officer? Dare we promote someone like Richmond to a high post when she’s prone to heroics?”

  Flowers raised an eyebrow. “Are we talking about promoting her then?”

  Burgton rocked a hand in a maybe yes, maybe no gesture. The sun winked from the contacts of his weapon’s bus at each movement. “Not at this time, but eventually… yes.”

  Hymas pursed her lips. “There are people, a lot of people, who see you as a hero, sir. Would you say that makes you a good choice or a poor choice to lead the regiment?”

  “Are you trying to shrink my head again, Marion?”

  Hymas smiled. “It’s a valid point, and you know it. A hero is just someone who does the job when everyone else gives up. That, in my opinion, makes for an excellent officer.”

  Burgton reread the data displayed on the compad he was holding, and frowned. “I suppose… in the right situation, someone as you describe would be an asset beyond price, but should it happen that a glory hound came to lead my men, I would call that an unmitigated disaster.”

  “Richmond falls into the first, not the second category, sir,” Hymas said.

  “I agree,” Stone said with a nod.

  Flowers smiled. “Concur.”

  “Well then.” He made a note on his compad. “Next we have Martin Cragg. Formerly a lieutenant in the Alizon Rangers.”

  “Undistinguished career to date, but I like his look,” Flowers said. “He’s quiet, but he’s good with his weapons.”

  Stone nodded. “He’s not the best at tactics, the results of the simulations prove that, but he does have a way of making it through. He was a ranger and it shows.”

  Burgton nodded and made another note on his compad. “You mean he would be best in a lead position… a scout position?”

  “Yes, sir. He was born for recon.”

  “Fine then. Have you anything to add, Marion?”

  “Not regarding his fitness to command, but on a general note, yes. Cragg is one of the most even tempered of all the recruits. His adjustment to enhancement has been smooth as well as quick. I would venture to say he is one of those least effected by the enhancement process. His latest psych profile is almost identical to the one taken at HQ. He hasn’t changed at all.”

  “Unusual?” Burgton asked.

  “Not especially. Perhaps ten percent of all enhancements leave the recipients unchanged… at least mentally.”

  Burgton raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never noticed. I remember feeling cut off from everything I ever knew, everyone I ever…” he cleared his throat. “So, he’s stable and would make a good unit for a recon platoon. Anything else?”

  Flowers nodded. “He’s a good influence on the others. Like the time he stopped a fight between Callendri and Fuentez.”

  “It didn’t help in the long run.”

  “To be fair, sir,” Stone put in. “Cragg was rear guard when that went down. I don’t say he would have stopped it, but we’ll never know now.”

  Burgton nodded. Callendri was a great loss to the regiment. He had liked the boy, and still felt guilty for his part in what had happened. His death had hit them all hard. He shook off his sudden dark mood. Regrets were a luxury he could ill afford.

  “I doubt it could have been stopped, Ken,” he said. “I did review Eric’s download of the incident that day. Callendri went over the edge too quick.”

  “It’s rarely any other way, sir.”

  He nodded. “Callendri is the past; it’s the future we need to concern ourselves with. Nothing can replace what we lost in the war, but at least we’ll have the regiment strong again—a regiment to be proud of.”

  “The uniform has always been enough for me,” Stone said coldly. “There is nothing else.”

  Flowers and Hymas exchanged a glance over Stone’s head. They all felt strongly where the regiment was concerned. It was home. Apart from the Alliance, it was the only thing that endured in a viper unit’s life. His very long, long, long life.

  “Next we have—”

  The office door opened and a worried looking Captain Hames entered. “Another drone just came in. It’s bad.”

  “Bad?” Burgton asked reaching for the compad. “Red One? What the hell for…” he broke off as he digested the message’s import.

  “It’s the Merkiaari,” Hames said looking around at the others. “The bastards have taken out the Shan fleet.”

  Stone cursed viciously.

  Burgton read the message and offered the compad to Flowers.

  Flowers took it and read the message. “Nothing but the Red One, and orders to rendezvous with TF19. Where’s the threat assessment, the mission parameters… what the hell is Rawlins playing at?”

  “That will do, Dan,” Burgton chided. “A Merki attack is enough for now. Don’t forget the drone left Sol weeks ago.”

  “Who knows what’s gone down in that time?” Stone said.

  “Exactly.” Burgton took the compad back for one last look. He grimaced when nothing further appeared to him. He dropped it casually on the table with a clatter, and stroked his chin with one finger. He could do with a shave. “I’m sure Paul will send us more information as soon as Naval Intelligence makes it available to him, but we have enough to act. Richard, I want us on Red One immediately. Recall all perso
nnel on leave, and order our ships to increase their patrol radius—send them right out to the edge of the Zone. Order round the clock tracking at Uriel. All clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Hames saluted, and left to give his orders.

  Burgton rose to his feet. “We have preparations to make for the rendezvous with TF19. I’m going to call everyone in. I want contingency plans written, and put into place.”

  “The training?” Stone asked.

  “Will continue unabated until the last minute before departure. Can we push Charlie and Delta any harder?”

  “No, sir,” Stone said emphatically, and Flowers nodded. “I have my best people from Alpha and Bravo already on the problem. At least all the recruits have been activated.”

  Burgton nodded. “I’m thankful for that.”

  The meeting adjourned with his officers hurrying out of the office intent upon issuing orders of their own. Burgton accessed his processor, and with a series of lightning fast commands, he uplinked to Infonet (Information Network) to contact his department heads. His Infonet avatar was a simple recreation of reality as was his virtual office. Unlike some, he preferred not to bother with the almost limitless manipulations one could use to improve an avatar or office. He’d had enough real life improvements used upon his mind and body, without inflicting more upon himself.

  One by one his department heads joined him in the virtual environment. The first to respond to his summons was Alfred Kusac. Kusac was head of power generation and supply. He always used the PowerGen logo as his avatar. Burgton would have preferred Kusac to use a humanoid avatar instead—he didn’t like talking to what amounted to an animated depiction of a generator on overload.

  Head of transportation Julia Knight, and head of education Louise Spencer, arrived together. They had chosen idealised versions of themselves for avatars. Both were recognisable in their facial features, but they appeared almost superhumanly beautiful in this place. They were elflike in traditional fantasy garb, complete with sheathed daggers at their waists, and arrow filled quivers on their backs. They carried bows. They obviously still took their role playing seriously. Such gaming was popular on many worlds of the Alliance, with Zelda and the Spaceways topping the current hit list.

  Roger Massey of the Ranger and Forestry Commission was next to arrive, followed shortly by his brother Derrick who was currently head of agriculture. Roger’s avatar was dull in comparison to the elves. Both women grinned at his comical double-take when he first noticed them standing there. Roger’s avatar was Human normal, and wearing a ranger’s uniform. The rangers doubled as a police force on Snakeholme, but it had been years since Roger had worn his uniform on active duty. His avatar recalled those days perfectly. Derrick’s avatar was wearing a stiff-collared business suit—a plain mirror of his real self in an office thousands of klicks away. Burgton approved. Derrick snapped to attention when he greeted Burgton. He was still new in his position.

  “Has anyone heard from Liz?” Burgton asked.

  Liz Brenchley was head of industry. As such, she was responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of Snakeholme’s small industrial complex, which included their single weapon’s factory, and its attendant smelters in orbit. It was an important position, and he wanted her in on this meeting. There were a number of projects that she was overseeing for him. It was unlike her to be late.

  Derrick stepped forward. “I spoke to her this morning as a matter of fact. She’s inspecting that new facility you two are working on. Remember, sir, we haven’t the advantage of implants,” he said apologetically, and tapped the headset he was wearing with a finger. The unit attached to his temple gave him access to Infonet in his home or office, but unlike a viper’s internal systems, it did not provide unlimited access anywhere on the planet. “She’ll be along when she gets the word from her people.”

  Burgton hadn’t realised the inspection was today. It explained her tardiness. “Not a problem. I’ll upload the meeting to her office comp when we’re done. I asked you all to come on such short notice for a reason. A serious situation is brewing that needs taking care of. The mission will require an extended absence for myself and my officers.”

  Not surprisingly that caused a bit of a stir. He had only been back a year from his visit to Sol, and the round trip had taken months.

  “Can you tell us what’s going on?” Roger asked.

  He nodded. “Some of it. I received news via drone a short while ago that the Alliance is on Red One alert.”

  There was shock, but no panic, and Burgton was proud of them. Over the years he had built a good team to run Snakeholme for him. Each department head was autonomous and reported only to him. The system was a good one, based upon tried and tested military doctrine. Politicians and political parties had no purpose on Snakeholme—there was no government. There was only him, the regiment, and then everyone else in that order. Snakeholme had, and had always had, but one purpose—keeping the regiment in fighting trim so that it could safeguard the Alliance. He had never made a secret of the fact, not even all those years ago when he first offered the families of his men a place here away from the Merki advance. Everyone knew and accepted that his loyalty was to the Alliance and the regiment first, Snakeholme second.

  “It has to do with the mission I mentioned,” he said. “I can’t go into specifics, but suffice it to say that it’s a tough one. I’ll be taking my best people with me including all units of First Battalion. Colonel Stanbridge will be in command of the base, and the recruits left behind to finish their training. I’m leaving him a strong cadre of veterans.”

  “What are your orders, General?” Roger said and the others mumbled similar things.

  Burgton smiled. “Thank you all. Here is what I need you to do…”

  They listened to his explanation of what was happening, and quietly informed him that they would take care of everything. There were one or two questions regarding his coming absence—simple matters of procedure and nothing he couldn’t easily answer. The meeting lasted less than an hour. When they left, he lingered just long enough to download and send a copy of the meeting to Liz along with her instructions. With that done, he was confident he had fulfilled his responsibilities to Snakeholme. He was leaving her people in good hands. He broke his link to Infonet and quickly uplinked to the regiment’s TacNet (Tactical Network) to begin issuing his orders.

  Vipers, no matter where they happened to be or what they happened to be doing, froze as their processors flashed an alert upon their displays indicating a priority message was incoming. Minutes later, black clad men and women sprinted for the nearest ground or air transport back to Petruso Base. People stopped to stare as vipers piled out of buildings in cities all over Snakeholme, and ran at top speed for the nearest maglev station.

  * * *

  Chapter 21

  Aboard ASN Victorious, in the zone, NGC 1513-4964

  TF19 jumped into the system in battle formation. The stupendous bulk of ASN Sutherland was central to the formation and protected from all sides by her escort. As the only carrier assigned to TF19, Sutherland was an asset beyond price, but she was also a huge liability. The task force simply did not have enough ships to nursemaid a carrier, but they needed one to perform their mission. It was an insoluble situation, Captain Fernandez thought for the umpteenth time. His repeater displays suddenly blossomed with colour as Sutherland launched fighters to supplement her defence. He watched as the fighters piled on the acceleration and raced madly into the void. Most people had sense enough to avoid g-stress. Fighter pilots loved it.

  “Contact,” Commander Hanson sang out from his position at scan. “Target designate: Alpha one through three. Two tin cans and a troop transport, Skipper.”

  Fernandez aborted his fumbling attempt to remove his helmet. “Class?”

  “The destroyers are Broadsword class, the transport is a…” Hanson looked up from the master plot’s display with a frown. “It’s an old Hunter class.”

  The Hunter class of ships had b
een decommissioned more than a century ago. Before that they were the mainstay of the Alliance’s transport fleet. During the Merki war, more than ninety percent of all troop movements were accomplished using Hunter class ships.

  “Designation?”

  “I’m not picking up IFF, sir.”

  Fernandez didn’t like that, he didn’t like that at all. “Keep us at battle stations. Try to contact them, Lena.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Braun, said and worked her consol. “I have… I have General Burgton on the line,” she gasped. “He says he would like to join us if that’s all right with you, sir.”

  “Burgton…” he whispered. “The Burgton?”

  “Yes, sir. Should I put him on?”

  “On screen, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The screen activated to show a man with wide shoulders wearing black battle dress. He was sitting among others wearing similar uniform. It was Burgton. No one could ever mistake his face or his uniform. There were no navy personnel present on his bridge—none at all.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the honour Captain…?” Burgton said.

  “I… I mean… Captain Fernandez of Victorious at your service, General.”

  “At my service?” Burgton smiled tolerantly. “I rather think it’s the other way around don’t you?”

  Fernandez nodded. “I’m sure the Admiral will want to speak with you, General. Your ships…” he paused to pull himself together. “I’m not reading IFF from your ships, General. Why not?”

  “Swordfish and Hammer, my escort, will be departing momentarily, Captain Fernandez. As for Grafton’s IFF, none of my ships belong to the navy. They’re… they’re on permanent loan you might say.”

  Broadsword class destroyers on loan; on permanent loan? And no IFF? Not even courier ships were exempt. Privately owned or not, Burgton’s ships should still be broadcasting identity and registry. It seemed obvious that Grafton was crewed by the General’s men; he could see them on the screen. That being so, the destroyers were probably crewed by non-navy personnel also.