Chapter 17: Offensive Action
Joint Chiefs, Trinity Base
“Gentlemen, this meeting is now in session,” said Torrance to the assembled Joint Chiefs as Major Seagers withdrew from the conference room, closing the great oak doors behind him.
“As you are now all aware, the Northern Territories government has requested our help in the fight against the Combine. For the past three days, our elected officials have been in negotiation with their counterparts in the NT, the result of which is that a full military alliance has been agreed upon. The War Council has instructed us to liaise with the NT High Command in drawing up a plan of attack in the shortest possible timeframe.
“In front of you, you will find the latest situation and combat readiness reports. If you would look at the uppermost sheet you will see estimates on current Combine strength by class of vessel. On the next page you will see the present disposition of Alliance and NT forces. Underneath, you will also find an appendix with detailed information of NT units which at present are probably unfamiliar to you.”
“They have no fighter carriers,” remarked Admiral Stewart.
“This is true. They’ve built their fleet around a class of super-heavy cruiser. In effect a larger version of our Z-class destroyers. Formidable vessels but like our Zs, relatively few in number. Their offensive weapons would appear comparable to ours but their defenses are markedly superior. Their larger units are equipped with multi-layered shields that are capable of deflecting a full volley of Spartax missiles.”
“That’s something that would come in mighty handy,” said Admiral Monk. “Are they prepared to share their technology?”
“That may come later but for the time being, an exchange of technology is not on the agenda.”
“According to these figures, with the addition of the NT fleet we now have superiority over the Combine,” said General Vandenberg.
“In numbers, yes, though there is considerable disparity in numbers by type,” said Torrance. “They have more fighter carriers and battleships. We are superior in cruiser and destroyer squadrons. Opinions?”
“A head to head fleet action will do neither side any good,” said Stewart. “Particularly us. They have fifty battlewagons to our – what is it – thirty eight? We need to use the superior speed and maneuverability of our cruisers to carve them up piece by piece.”
“What’s the latest intelligence on the Combine’s border defenses?” said General Leyland.
“Fortunately for us, the Combine channeled most of their recent efforts into the defense of Haalikon, Ebron and Odeida – efforts that have been overtaken by circumstances. As for the rest of the front, their defenses remain much as they were a year ago. Like us, they utilize warp field disrupters, but deploy them for local rather than strategic defense. Some parts of their borders are protected but they don’t deploy units with any saturation or strength in depth. There are a number of routes into Combine space open to us.”
“I’d go for Tarsus,” said Monk. “Concentrate the bulk of our fleet into one strike force and go straight at Tarsus. It’s where Combine space is at its narrowest – just sixty light years across. It’s a major transport hub and also home to their largest shipbuilding and support facility.”
“It would be well defended,” said Vandenberg, “But if we could take and hold Tarsus it would split the Combine in two.”
“General Leyland?” said Torrance.
“It’s bold,” said Leyland. “But there too many risks involved. The attack would have to be very carefully coordinated and we’d need to rely on the NT mounting an equally successful offensive. Get the timing wrong or get bogged down and the Combine could catch us cold.”
“He’s right,” said Stewart. “We’d be better off applying pressure on a broader front. Probe their defenses with a few carrier groups and see how they respond. If we can get them reacting to us, we can start dictating the terms of the battle. The objective should be to stretch them thin enough so we can punch through. There are any number of tactics we could employ – hit and run attacks, reconnaissance in force, large scale raids, feints – just keep switching the focus of the attacks and we’ll soon have them off balance. We could even try using a couple of carriers to lure a chunk of their fleet into action and then close the trap. We’ve now got the ships to do it – dangle a brace of carriers in front of them and they’ll soon take the bait.”
“It will take far too long,” said Monk. “The Combine is off balance now. We need to hit them now. Give them time to regroup and reorganize and we lose the initiative.”
“Get an attack on Tarsus wrong and we’ll lose a lot more than the initiative,” retorted Stewart.
Torrance sat in silence as the argument swept back and forth. Stewart and Leyland on one side, Monk and Vandenberg on the other. Both strategies had merits, both had inherent weaknesses. But wasn’t that always the case?
“Whatever we do,” said General Leyland. “We need to order a general mobilization, bring up the reserves and move the fleet to their forward bases. We can do that immediately.”
“And show our hand to the Combine?” said Monk.
“They will already suspect an attack. It would be stupid to think they aren’t keeping a very close eye on what we are doing.”
Torrance resisted the urge to glance at either Stewart or Monk.
“If nothing else,” continued Leyland, “It will force them to divert assets away from the NT border sooner than they might have done.”
Torrance nodded. “I agree with General Leyland that taking pressure off the NT is vital. I’ll issue the orders for a general mobilization and we’ll move all units to their forward positions immediately. As for the rest, I will take some time to consider your comments before I confer with our counterparts in the NT. Thank you, gentlemen. That is all.”
Loyola Field
Despite Powers’ misgivings about shuffling papers around all day, he soon came to the conclusion that the liaison office at Loyola Field wasn’t the worst place in the world to earn your daily crust. True, the work mind-numbingly dull, but provided he was punctual and properly attired, he was left to get on with his allotted duties with little interference. In the long run it made it easier to maintain his persona as a disillusioned malcontent, which was a pity because several of his new colleagues seemed quite likable people. Having said that, he’d met quite a few people on the other side of the border who had also been very likable, and those same people had devoted their time and energy into dreaming up new and ever more terrible ways to slaughter soldiers of the Alliance. Powers wasn’t sure what to make of that. A part of him reasoned that his enemies’ ability to maintain a sense of humor made them at least partly human. Another part of him reasoned that anyone who could joke about dissolving enemy troopers with air-burst corrosive munitions was one sick son-of-a-bitch.
Whatever the truth, the role he was now being asked to play necessitated keeping his colleagues at arm’s length. It wasn’t difficult. Most of his shift was spent in his cubicle and when forced out into the open he deliberately made no effort to be sociable. After a few weeks, the majority of his colleagues had taken the hint. The two exceptions were an aging Lieutenant Commander who, as far as Powers could make out, was trying to act as a father figure, and an only slightly younger female non-com who seemed to think that he might also need mothering. Their obvious goodwill made his job both harder and easier. Harder because despite their best intentions, they were becoming a damned nuisance, and easier because people like this were one of the reasons that he was still fighting – honest, decent folk who held simple values that were actually worth fighting for.
“We’re going for lunch,” said the non-com. “Like to join us?”
“Thanks,” said Powers without looking up, “but I’ve already got something planned.”
“No probs,” said the non-com. “Catch you next time.”
“Yeah, sure…” Powers waited a few seconds before glancing up. Looking over to the ex
it, he was relieved to see the non-com disappear through the door. Telling her that he had something planned was closer to the truth than he might have wished, but it was the answer he gave every time. His ‘plan’ usually entailed a sandwich in the privacy of his cubicle followed by a stroll along the field’s perimeter fence. Today would be the same – or very nearly.
By the time he’d finished his sandwich, the office was empty. He threw the wrapper into the garbage and made his way outside, heading off on his usual walk towards the end of the base’s main runway. If anyone asked, he’d just say that he enjoyed watching the various craft coming in to land.
His route took him past a pair of workshops and then around the back of a disused hangar. As he turned the last corner, he looked casually behind him. Certain that he wasn’t being observed, he pushed open a door in the hangar wall and climbed into the back of a vehicle that was waiting just inside.
“Any further contact?” asked Brigadier Faulkner without preamble.
“No,” said Powers. “To be honest, I doubt there will be. The arrangements they’ve put in place are pretty cute. It allows me to pass on data without having to make any kind of direct contact. There isn’t even a dead drop for us to keep an eye on.”
“And you have no further ideas as to where you were taken?”
“Not really. Given the time frame, it must have been somewhere within or very close to Tycho City, which of course is of no help at all. They went to great pains to hide both the location and their identities.”
“And if they need to get in touch with you?”
“Either at the apartment or one of my haunts over on the east side.”
Faulkner nodded. His adversaries were far from stupid and of course they’d set things up to their best advantage. “Let me know your exact movements whenever you’re planning a night out on the town. I’ll have some people keep an eye on you, and whoever might be around to contact you. But, if they’re being deliberately cautious…”
“Indeed. Why bother making personal contact when they could just as easily send a letter through the damned mail.”
“Quite,” said Faulkner. “The apartment was a dead end, by the way. It’s leased to a non-existent company and the rent is paid up until the end of next year.”
“I was wondering about this,” said Powers, holding up the data chip that Jacob had given him. “I’m no expert on field communications but there might be something the nerds in IT can learn from it, or even from the transmitter in the apartment.”
Faulkner turned the chip over in his hand. “Possibly… but it’s odds on that the chip has some kind of fail-safe software built into the architecture. Ours certainly have. Tampering with it might just alert the enemy that we’re on to them. As for the apartment, we’ll keep an eye on it but quietly and from a distance. Major, when you first undertook this mission, I wasn’t overly hopeful of a result, but now that you’ve made contact, I don’t intend to waste the opportunity. The last thing we want to do now is tip our hand by being too eager. For the time being, just keep to your normal routine – I’ll make sure you are provided with enough tit-bits to keep your handlers interested, and after that, who knows? Perhaps we’ll get a break. And even if we don’t, the operation will at least provide us with a conduit to the enemy, one which we may be able to use to our advantage in the future.”
“Understood,” said Powers. “Any news on Tom Brady?”
“Is this the man?” Faulkner held up a photograph which showed Powers and Brady standing together in the lobby of the Equinox Center.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“We pulled this from the internal security cameras. Since then, we’ve run every check imaginable but can’t find any record of the man. For certain, he was never employed in any of the steel mills over on the east side. Seems likely he was a Combine ferret.”
“A first contact specialist.”
“Correct. He was probably on a transport out of here the day after this photo was taken. We’ll circulate the picture as a matter of course. I suppose it’s possible he might show up elsewhere sometime in the future.”
“And Jan Godoy?”
“As ever, our friend Mr. Godoy is being watched very closely.”
“The man’s rotten through and through,” said Powers with only thinly veiled contempt.
“Yes, I’ve no doubt he is. Unfortunately, he is very adept at maintaining an impression of innocence. During your conversation with him, did he even once suggest anything implicitly treacherous?”
“In all honesty, no,” said Powers.
“That’s what he does. He’s clever all right. He’ll lead you right up to the door marked treason and then leave you to go through on your own. He’s never once implicated himself in anything overtly seditious.”
“With respect, sir, couldn’t someone arrange to have him fall under the wheels of a runaway bus?”
“I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind, Major. The reasons we’ve refrained from eliminating him are twofold. Firstly, it would allow militants within the peace movement to fan the flames of revolution by claiming that the government and the military are the true enemy. We are not. The Combine is, which brings us neatly to the second point. One important difference between us and them is that we don’t eliminate our enemies – at least, not without due process. Don’t worry, Major, our friend Godoy will slip up one day, mark my words, and when he does, I’ll be waiting. And then we let justice take its course. He’ll have his day in court and so will I. Then at the end of a very public trial he’ll be found guilty and shortly thereafter find himself with a hangman’s noose around his neck.”
“I hope you’re right about that, sir.”
“I am, Major. It’s just a matter of time.”
“In that case, could I ask the brigadier to reserve me seat in the public gallery?”
“I think you’ll find yourself at the back of a very long queue waiting for that privilege, Major. That said, achieve some results with your present mission and I’ll guarantee you a front row seat.”
“That, sir, is a deal,” said Powers. “Now if you’ll forgive me, it’s time I was back on duty.”
“Of course,” said Faulkner. “Carry on.”
* * *
C-in-C’s Office, Trinity Base
Major Seagers official role was that of Torrance’s aide de camp, and was one that he naturally excelled at. According to the edicts of the military handbook, his primary function was ‘to assist the General in the performance of his duties’. All very simple in theory, but rather more difficult in practice. As was often the case for someone in his position, he had, over the course of time, gradually assumed several less formal roles – acting as friend and confidante to Torrance in many things professional and to a lesser extent personal. Seagers was also possessed of the ability to function as the perfect sounding board for Torrance’s thoughts and ideas. Not that he ventured many opinions on the General’s musings; he realized that it was just the General’s way of confirming in his own mind that which he already knew.
“The problem with a single, direct thrust, Seagers,” said Torrance as he gazed out of his office windows, “is that at this stage of the game, it could very well play right into the Combine’s hands. They’ve always been adept at concentrating their forces and launching quick, robust counter attacks. The last thing we need is another reverse like Operation Zealous, that’s for sure. On top of that, there’s the problem of supply. It could take as many resources to keep the supply lines open as it would to maintain the offensive, and with the ever present danger of having the lines cut, with possible disastrous results.”
“Very true, Sir,” said Seagers.
“On the other hand, fighting over a broad front keeps the supply lines short and allows us to pressure the Combine everywhere. The downside, of course, is that we are strong nowhere. It hands the enemy the opportunity to break through if they identify a weak area… But… with the Combine busy with the NT, how likely is
that?”
“Is that a rhetorical question, sir?”
“Yes, Major, I believe it is. The Combine have lost the initiative – at least temporarily. The NT have surprised them, given them a bloody nose and thrown their plans into disarray. Ha! It serves them damn well right. And right now the Combine are still adjusting their tactics to meet the threat. That gives us time, which can be both friend and enemy, but in this particular case it is very definitely our ally.” Torrance turned from the window and walked over to the star map on the opposite wall. “Tarsus,” he said, pointing to a world at the very center of Combine space. “Now there’s a tempting target for you. Just sitting there, perfectly ripe and just waiting to be plucked… but not today. We may well turn out attentions there in the future but in the short term it’s not in our interests to take any risks, and Tarsus would be a risk indeed. I’m going to issue orders for an offensive over a broad front. Maybe we can’t be strong everywhere, but neither can they. We’ll keep them off balance, a push here, a probe there. We’ll harry them, harass them and grind away at their defenses and wait until a crack appears. And if one does, Seagers…”
“Yes, sir?”
“Then we’ll have the bastards.”
Chapter 18: LC225
The Alliance’s first incursion into Combine space was a reconnaissance in force. The three Zs were once more in action, this time supporting a carrier battle group. Their orders were to spread confusion among the systems on the enemy’s left flank.
Arriving at the first target – a minor system of little strategic value – the Combine military was conspicuous only by its absence. Apart from a pair of aging gunboats which wisely retreated towards the far side of the system, the only other military asset was a small repair depot in orbit around a colony on the fifth planet. The Alliance battle group immediately closed on the planet and speedily obliterated the few orbital batteries on station. A terse ultimatum was then issued to the defenseless depot: Evacuate immediately or face the consequences. The depot’s commander wasted no time in signaling his compliance. The battle group stood off as the depot’s crew withdrew, a pair of shuttlecraft transporting them to the safety of the planet below. A cruiser then made short work of the depot, after which the battle group formed up and made several sedate orbits of the planet, simply to show the inhabitants that they could.
Across Enemy Space Page 20