by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
“I do understand the shortages we currently face, but I cannot perform my duties unless more ships and equipment are allotted me.” Sarah had argued her needs for most of the morning and growing frustration over the moment reflected in her voice.
Indeed, the entire council was feeling pressure from lack of needed supplies and qualified leaders to organize the vast host of newly arrived volunteers. Mihai was not used to being the focus of such demands. For two millennia, she had commanded the armies and navies defending the Empire. Now, as its king, she was finding her new role more taxing than her old. Without Lowenah’s direct support, she felt so alone, knowing that the weight of her decisions could contribute to their defeat or victory in the coming war.
Frustrated, Sarah slammed her fist on the table. “My duty is to disrupt the enemy and disable its communications and transportation systems! I cannot do that without the weapons to do so! How can I create the WolfPack without the wolves to do it? Howling in the hills will not scatter the flock!”
Jebbson silently stood up, bending forward, placing his hands on the table, patiently waiting until Mihai recognized him. “Cheap and dirty!” rolled off his tongue as he turned his head to and fro, watching expressions of confusion and wonder at his comment. After satisfying himself he had everyone’s attention, he explained, “The objective of war is to gain a victory over the enemy. It is not a time to see how safe or secure we can construct something. Tools of war should be designed, first, to destroy our enemy and second, hopefully, not ourselves at the same time.”
“Vessels of war need not be comfortable or attractive…niceties I have found you people have often lavished upon your creations.” He eyed some of Lowenah’s older children who, at this war council meeting, still favored overly ornate and ponderous garb. “In the wars I have witnessed, the use of the soldier was to become part of the killing machine. Function was of primary importance. If the cost of victory was the ruin of the machine, then the loss was acceptable. The attempt was to build one that would endure the battle. But it was better to have something to put in a line, even if it should fail, than to have no line at all.”
Jebbson squinted. Leaning forward and scanning the room, he exclaimed, “In my old country’s own great civil war, we built a warship in ninety days that made all the navies of the world of that day obsolete overnight. It was small, cramped, hot, and dangerous for its crew. Yet it saved our navy from destruction and possibly won us the war. It was a fool’s dream and it worked! Many other fool’s dreams failed, but if we hadn’t tried ‘em all, we wouldn’t have found the one that succeeded.” He nodded. “At least that fool’s dreams gave us something to put in the field…and that contributed greatly to our winning that war.”
Mihai interrupted, asking, “So how does your insight help us at this moment, not ninety days from now?”
Jebbson was quick to reply. “We have thousands of derelicts, old freighters, pleasure craft, and ancient fighters. Throw your crews into ‘em. Have ‘em fix ‘em up, paint ‘em up, and equip ‘em best they can. And give the crews a few weeks to try ‘em out. Sure, we will lose many to the enemy, but if we have enough of ‘em in the field, they’ll be like ants scurrying around an anthill. How do you squash ‘em all?”
Jebbson raised his hand, shaking it, pointing a finger, exclaiming, “A bee in a man’s drawers is worth ten-thousand buzzing around the tree! You stuff a thousand of Sarah’s hornets down Asotos’ pants, and he’ll be too busy to think clearly ‘bout his own war plans. It buys us time to build a real fleet, and…” He eyed Gabrielle and, alluding to the Sophia, mildly chided, “It won’t take ten years to do it, either.”
An excited voice assaulted Mihai’s ears as Sarah bent low, hands on the table, eyes afire with anticipation, demanding, “A good captain must command in the field…and I’ll take anything else you have! I’ll give you the hornets if you give me the crews to man them!”
Gabrielle interrupted, asking Sarah, “What do you require of those who make up your derelict crews?”
There was no uncertainty in Sarah’s mind as to the kind of soldier she wanted. “They have to be willing to face death with a grin! They have to be willing to kill without regret! They have to be willing to depart for their tour of duty with no consideration of a returning!”
A sadness swept across Gabrielle’s face as she peered into Mihai’s eyes, her own smoky-gray eyes mirroring her feelings. Finally, turning back to Sarah, in a quiet, somber voice she replied, “I will send your request to those in the fleets. You will get your crews.”
Sarah said nothing and slowly sat, a look of lonely satisfaction on her face. Although not yet having lived a total of eighty years, there were few who rivaled her knowledge and experience when it came to fighting and dying. The men and women she had personally executed in the arena blurred into an unnumbered, faceless mass of souls who were either not quick enough, or were unlucky enough to be caught by her blade.
Since her arrival in this place, Sarah had spent several years acting in the role of an assassin. She felt a deep remorse - not over the demise of all those lives she had extinguished - but at seeing Gabrielle, Admiral of the Navy, troubled over the future loss of so many of her people while she, Sarah, was unable to feel the same, her heart allowing for no such nicety.
“This may be all well and good, but little does it satisfy my needs.” Everyone turned toward Field Marshal Trisha, who all morning had remained quiet, sitting at the far end of the large, oval, council table. She now stood, already dressed for war, wearing the sea-green uniform of the Army. Her long-sleeved tunic was covered with a vest of burnished chain-mail, secured at her waist with a four-inch wide leather belt. On her right side was clipped a pair of gray gauntlet gloves. Across her middle, the same belt holstered a gun similar to the sidearm Jebbson carried to the Prisoner Exchange, and on her left side was fastened the same sword she wore the fateful night she confronted Sarah in the warehouse. She also cloaked herself with the long, flowing cape worn at the Prisoner Exchange.
Trisha waited, silently, for the right moment. No expression showed on her face except for a raging fire burning in her coal-black eyes. Like a distant storm rumbling, she finally broke the silence. “When the hour arrives, I will have a million troopers invading MueoPoros. There will little time to secure the bridgehead and deliver supplies before a counterattack will likely come. If I cannot put down a large enough army, along with its heavy armor and supplies, we may lose our foothold. There must be enough transports to supply the army that is already collecting at Oros.”
She glanced back and forth, between Gabrielle and Mihai. “I trust that the Navy will provide needed support. Until we can deposit our own air-arm on the planet, we will be resting upon the good will of the Navy to protect us. But even if the Navy were to collect all its supply ships together for our use, it would be insufficient for our needs.”
Mihai queried, “How many transport ships will it take to satisfy your needs?”
“Ten-thousand! And that’s if you give me ones large enough to effectively do the job.”
Mihai leaned forward, lowering her head in dismay, wondering, “And should one gather all the vessels that rest in all the seas, would a man find the number you seek?”
Trisha angrily retorted, “And how long can the mightiest warrior stand alone in battle? A mountain of straw will smother a blaze, but a handful can only fuel one. I do not seek more than my needs. If you do not wish to visit death upon your brothers, you will find me those ships!”
Before Mihai could recover from Trisha’s verbal blow, another hand flew into the air, its owner seeking an audience. Taqa Esem (which, when translated, means ‘one who breaks bones’), one of the three admirals of the Crimson Fleet, rose to make reply. Looking at Trisha, he offered, “To us it has been given that there rests in our hands several vessels that have proved to be home to us for many ages of time. They are large and st
out, but too slow for war. My people cannot use them to fight. For you, if you choose, we can offer them for your use. When emptied, each may carry five thousand well-supplied warriors. We proudly possess over one hundred of these machines. They are yours, along with able crews, if you desire them.”
Admiral Taqa Esem reflected well the kind of people the Tarezabarians had become. They were ancient, having lived many ages longer than most of Lowenah’s other children. Mihai was called a ‘child of the Second Age’, that is, she was born during the time preparation was being made to prepare a planet in what would become known as the Second Realm, as a repository for life. Taqa Esem had lived many times the length of her life. Why, Mihai had at one time believed that the story of the Tarezabarians was a tale made up by the older children in order to fill the hearts of the younger with a desire to reach out to the stars.
Their simplistic philosophy of life and possessions could be seen in the admiral’s attire. He wore only long gray cape and cap, both newly woven from what appeared to be what Jebbson would call ‘coarse homespun’. Hanging from a leather thong that crossed over from his right shoulder down to his left hip, a short sword made of a strange metallic material dangled in a loose-fitting sheath. Attached to the thong was a small purse, nestled close to the sword hilt, completing his wardrobe.
The Tarezabarians had lived a very peaceful life. Not one of them knew the experience of facing an enemy. Taqa Esem’s name was not related to any violence, other than say, in his eagerness once to grapple over some hard candy while having shared a little too much wine, he broke several teeth as he recklessly crunched it.
When the Tarezabarians decided to join in ridding the universe of Asotos and his armies, all the peoples gathered together at one place and went into weeping and mourning over the loss of their own innocence. For three months, they lamented the life they were losing, because all of them understood that war would destroy the memories of the past and would forever darken the dreams of the future. To these people, death had already arrived upon them. Their old lives were gone and could never be recaptured.
Trisha’s shoulders relaxed as the tension eased in her back. She thanked the admiral for his generous offer. The anxiety over finding needed transports pressed upon her mind ever since Lowenah’s final council meeting. These one hundred ships were a major help, yet combined with the others they already possessed, still inadequate. Speaking in a subdued tone of urgency, she again addressed Mihai. “My Lord, I am still in dire straits. Men without equipment will last little time on the planet. Even with Admiral Taqa Esem’s blessed gift, we fall far short of all the military, logistical and other support craft needed to make this operation a success.”
Jebbson quickly stood up, raising his hand to get attention. Mihai offered him the floor. “I believe there is a solution to this dilemma that could be quickly afforded. First, let me describe to you an observation on my part. Over the many years of combat, there has come an evolution in ship design. Three hundred years ago, you built a powerful fighting machine, the Chisamore…one of the best for its time. It displaced twenty thousand tonnes and was a fighting marvel. Yet, by today’s standards, it pales in stature to the new birds of the sky. Why, the Sophia displaces two-hundred thousand and carries a complement of nearly seven thousand soldiers and crew.”
He waited a moment for the others to consider the comparison before building on his statement. “What you have created is breathtaking, yet it is also an expensive luxury that could be taken out of commission by one well-placed missile. My friends, it is far easier to kill an elephant than a nest of rats.” He watched quizzical looks growing on the others’ faces. “OK, consider this fact:” He turned his attention to Gabrielle. “I understand that the Sophia is to be your new flagship, correct?”
Gabrielle nodded in the affirmative.
“Tell me, please…” Jebbson queried, “how many of our other precious naval vessels will you sequester to care for it and protect it?”
Gabrielle was caught unprepared. Her eyes darted to and fro as she pondered the meaning of his question.
Jebbson shot out his own reply. “That ship of yours is stealing over seventy of our most valuable fighting and transport ships…vessels which could be used to fill other needed gaps in our defenses, or patrol, or be of advantage in other arenas of this conflict. And what’s sad about this is the Sophia will always need a support group of that magnitude to maintain its safety.”
He waved his arm. “That taskforce is like a giant fallen tree lodged in the middle of a raging river. It’s not big enough to stop the flood, so the flood just slides around it, tearing away other soil to make way for its surge. Why do you think that beaver build their dams out of twigs? And have you ever tried to remove one of ‘em? Why, by the next day, it has reappeared and, in short order, it is again as strong as before.”
“How many of these carrier taskforces do we have? I understand there are close to twenty. I also realize that most are not the size of the Sophia’s battle fleet. Yet you have tied up close to forty percent of all your firepower, protecting your white elephants, while you leave dangerous gaps in your defense screens throughout the Empire. I have discovered one great truism: the larger your machine of war, the more vulnerable it becomes and, so, the more protection it requires. The fatter the man, the bigger the chair he needs.”
“Now please don’t misunderstand. I see a value to having battle groups with massive firepower…but not in defensive actions. Our field marshal will happily accept such support when we trip the hammer, but if she is to remain safe from future attacks above, you will be forced to maintain the fleet in the vicinity, thus removing it from further action.”
Jebbson watch the peoples’ eyes. He could see their quandary and had expected it. The theory of the ‘ship of line’, of massed naval powers slugging it out, still clouded their minds. Since the days of the carrack, where ships were designed to slam one another, ramming bows through the hulls of their hapless victims, Lowenah’s children had been fixated on huge machines of war.
He gave an observation. “My friends, as I slept in the Field of the Minds, you waged a terrible battle. I have been told of the valor displayed on the Day of Tears, and have come to see that the battle exhausted your power in men and machines. Thousands of burned and broken hulks still choke the skies where it was fought. Countless lives lost attest to the unquestioned bravery of your brothers and sisters in their determination to defeat the enemy. But please, tell me, what did it accomplish? The battle was little more than two great space armies hammering away at each other in a slugfest with no other objective in mind than destruction of the opponent.”
“In the coming war, Asotos will not waste his forces so foolishly. His objective is not winning some strategic battle in order to gain a territorial victory through forced diplomacy as he was attempting to do then. No, your brother knows what’s at stake this time. He must overrun and conquer the Empire, or be driven from this Realm. He still believes in the juggernaut and has created many of them. He will strike with overwhelming concentrated force whenever possible.”
Gazing around, Jebbson watched faces as he asked, “Tell me, please, how do we hold back the strength of forty armadas with our twenty? No! No! The flood is sweeping ever onward, and we will not succeed in stemming its raging torrents with a few trees lodged in the stream. Asotos’ desire is for us to either face him or to stay hidden in the safety of secure harbors. Either way, he will be successful.”
“Should our navies reach out to attack in his advancing hour, he will crush them one by one, or sweep around them and attack defenseless positions. Should we hide them in safe harbors, he will go wild, burning our world until there is nothing remaining to defend…”
Planetee interrupted. “So what do you suggest then, Captain?” using Jebbson’s favorite term when addressing others. “By your words, if we run and hide, we will be defeated. Yet, if we go out to meet him
, we shall also die. What should we do, then, wish him away?”
Jebbson smiled. “You sound much too much like our friend, Jonathan. Have you been listening to his panderings of doubt and sorrow?”
Jonathan piped in from across the room. “She has done no such thing! Planetee is an honorable woman!” What he meant to say and what, in his spontaneity, was uttered, struck Jonathan dumb. His face turned red as the chuckles grew around the room.
When the room quieted back down, Jebbson replied. Continuing to smile, he addressed Planetee. “I recommend we do both…go out to face him and hide in security.” He hurried on so as to prevent response. “The flood waxes greatest in the stream bed. I suggest we fill in the channel and force the storm to spread across the plain.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a weathered notebook. “Here is what I propose: I believe it will satisfy both our present needs, to help fill in the holes in our defensive web and to give our field marshal her invasion force.” He removed a folded paper from the book and carefully opened it, pressing out the creases as he did so. “First, we need to concentrate on building a new navy to meet our coming needs. Here is a sketch of one design of a ship that, if we start now to build, will be on line in ninety days.” He turned to watch Mihai’s reaction. A question of doubt grew on her face, but she made no reply.
Jebbson continued, “I have carefully studied your military. You construct the most magnificent weapons of war I have ever seen! Their beauty and majesty exceed anything contrived by the inventors of my old world. If we had a hundred years, we could produce enough of them to win this war. That’s the problem. We don’t have the time. Our needs are immediate. Even a year is too long. Let me explain what I have here.”
Jebbson leaned forward, smoothing out the print while he took a moment to examine it. He started with reference to his old days. “I will try not to bore you by repeating myself, but... My company was newly arrived the day before, and was stationed along the shore of a place called ‘Hampton Roads’. We watched one of the most unbelievable events, I think, of history. Two monsters covered in iron, a ‘David versus a Goliath’, exchanged broadsides all morning, changing forever the way men would fight wars. In one hour, the ship of line was relegated to the backwaters of legend and romance.”
“The machine that changed history was called a ‘cheese box on a raft’, among other, much more derogatory terms. It was slow, clumsy, ugly...and terribly successful. And it was constructed in three months.” Taking a finger and poking the paper, Jebbson exclaimed, “This, I believe, is our David! If successful, the waging of naval war will forever change in this Realm also!”
He leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands, eyeing his audience. “What makes this machine so different are these factors: They’re as little as small cutters, with engines capable of powering a frigate, and firepower great enough to take on a cruiser. They can also be constructed almost anywhere, even in an old warehouse. And everything needed to build them is readily available. The hull is made of a common, composite material that is easily worked to produce a thick, nearly impenetrable skin. There are already thousands of old engines lying around that we can adapt for these ships. And, most importantly…” He waved a finger in the air, “the operating and navigation systems are so simple, it will take little training to prepare a crew to run them.”
Gabrielle was not convinced. With a chiding tone, she asked, “It sounds to me that there will be no room for the crew. And for engines with the torque power of which you speak, there is no place allotted for the fuel cells and radiating or condensing systems.”
“That’s because there are none needed.” Jebbson quickly replied. “These ships will be powered by your engines of old, converted somewhat with a few of my own concepts. But basically they will be of the old, what I would call a 'nuclear impulse reverse transfer system'.”
Several faces frowned their disapproval.
Jebbson did not falter. “Is it dangerous? Yes! If a vessel is hit in the engine room, the chance of radiation killing or disabling the entire crew is possible. That is a sad danger, but acceptable, considering the advantage we gain in the number of machines in the field. As far as the crew is concerned, it will be small, from as few as twelve to possibly thirty.”
He addressed Gabrielle. “Please understand, my dear Admiral, I’m not trying to redesign the Navy. Continued building of your proposed ships is fine with me. What I’m offering here is an added concept to what you already have. We need ships and a god-awful lot of ‘em in short order. Commander Sarah and Admiral Taqa Esem will provide us with the hunter-seekers and you have the muscle for a major engagement. What I offer are the thousands of arrows to disrupt the cavalry charging against us, a hundred thousand to be exact, and all to be completed within two years.”
A collective gasp of surprise arose from the group, but Jebbson ignored it. “My next suggestion will immediately place another thousand fighting ships at our disposal, plus free thousands of supply, transport, and reconnaissance vessels to be put to use where needed. For the moment, I suggest you withdraw the bulk of your taskforces and temporarily disband them, except for a few necessary protective ships for each carrier. Keep them in safe harbor, near our vital defenses. There, should Asotos manage an attack against one of those places, we would already have added protection available.”
He then went to his last point. “And, finally, this: There are hundreds of thousands of pleasure, transportation and trade ships scattered throughout the Empire. Procure the use of these machines to serve wherever practicable. It just may save your armies. Am I not right, General Finhardt?”
It took a moment for General Finhardt to grasp Jebbson’s question. He finally stood and, as if recalling long-forgotten memories, cautiously began, “My brother was a colonel during the invasion of the Low Countries at the time of the Axis War in my old land. He helplessly watched at a place called ‘Antwerp’, as the bulk of the enemy army was transported to safety, many on private pleasure-craft and fishing boats, most piloted by their volunteer owners. My people eventually lost the war, in part to the saving of that army.”
Jebbson turned to his audience and grimly smiled, a tearful mist filling his eyes. “We have only a few months to build and equip an army strong enough to, not only invade a planet, but absorb the crushing blow of a fist packing greater power than we have. If we win, many will die. If we lose…we all will. I will dare echo one statesman’s words, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’”
Jebbson stood erect, fist in hand. “Debate and committees are luxuries we can no longer afford! Each of us must walk the road that destiny’s placed before us. Should we fail, let it not be because we were afraid of trying the unthinkable, or too timid to reach for the unreachable! Let us not die with just the sword in our hand…but with it buried deep in our enemy’s belly!” The man quietly sat down, emotionally exhausted.
No one spoke, the somberness of the moment being too great for comment. In few words, this man borne from another world into theirs had shaken them to the collective recognition of the realities of this coming war. In strange and unsettling ways, his ideas gave them a fool’s hope… but it was at least hope. What were their chances of success when they couldn’t muster the strength to support one invasion force? Yet a little hope was better than none. They waited for someone to reply to his offer, to either accept it or denounce it as worthless.
Eventually, Mihai stood to address her council. “I am your king, but I am not your master. Yet, if you choose for the blood of all men to rest on the shoulders of one person, I will accept that charge. The hour of our possible death rapidly approaches. Valor alone will not win for us, this time, the victory over the Lord of the Dark Age. It has been said that a ‘live dog is better than a dead lion’. This time our nobility must bark and snarl if it is to survive.”
She addressed Jebbson, “Take your dreams, as wild
as they may sound, and go to my servants. Tell them to place into your hands all the things contained in our storehouses. Anything we have is yours for the taking.”
Then, turning to Gabrielle, she cautioned, “May I suggest that you listen to this man’s ideas.” She pointed toward Jebbson. “I will request your support in this, but you choose what is best. It is your fleet, and I bow to your wisdom.”
Then focusing her attention on Sarah, Mihai asked, “What more do you desire?”
Sarah stood and slammed her fist on the table. “Give me the Chisamore… and any of the other discarded wrecks your Navy possesses! I’ll show you how the wolf can decimate the flock!”
Mihai sadly nodded. “Take for yourself the Chisamore…and any other of all the old ships not actively serving under the Admiral’s command. Do with them as your needs see fit. What other aid I have to offer is yours.”
The recollection of earlier events haunted Mihai’s mind when she addressed Trisha. “You, my sister, I have neglected. I feared the darkness, and I made you my enemy when you exposed it to me. I pray that the frustration you’ve displayed this day was over the current dilemma and not because of hatred for me. Though I rightfully deserve it, I hope you have forgiven me for my foolishness.”
Trisha quietly stood. She spoke not a word, but one large tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek, falling ever downward, taking with it the hurt and loss she had carried since the days of the Prisoner Exchange. Mihai did not need to hear words in order to understand that Trisha harbored no hatred. Two moist, black orbs reflected a mother’s love for a child returned to her arms. Although ages older, Mihai felt like that child returning to the one who had given her life.
Breaking away from the enchanting spell, Mihai addressed Trisha’s needs. “All my lieutenants are at your service. Whatever they have to give will be made available. And I shall see to it that word is heralded throughout the kingdom for every able-bodied shipmaster to deliver up to us his vessel to use in this coming war.”
Mihai then addressed the entire council. “The hour has come. There are no longer choices to be made…only decisions to be carried out. We must stand this approaching storm…yet not only stand it, but also drive it back and destroy it. Think not of loss of friend or comrade. Focus your hearts on what is gained, should we win. There is no past for us to return to, and our future will always be cloudy and gray. We shall all become shadow walkers. For us, there will be no returning. That being the case, let us fight for the only hope that remains for the ones coming after us. Let us win this war so that they may enjoy true innocence and we can thus live that innocence through them.”
Mihai quietly dismissed the council, thanking them for coming.
