Across Enemy Space

by L. J. Simpson

  According to the carrier’s intel officer, the raid had been a resounding success, though Redmayne was forced to ask himself from whose point of view. Even as he was giving LC225 her walk around, the combat engineer’s first demolition charges had begun to detonate, the explosions visible as pinpricks of light even from low orbit. Secondary explosions had then rippled across the base as munitions and fuel stores erupted one by one. That part at least had made the assault worthwhile.

  As for the POWs, just two had made it safely off the surface. None had been left behind – none alive, that was. That intel could consider it a success made Remayne wonder what they would have regarded as a failure, but deep inside, he already knew the answer – as far as the high command was concerned, the boffins were better dead than still in the employ of the enemy.

  The Combine generals would – as always – learn from their mistakes. It was a safe bet that at this very minute they were relocating high value prisoners deeper inside Combine space, well out of the reach of further Alliance raiding parties.

  The Combine’s final mistake of this particular action had been to dispatch a pair of heavy cruisers to the battle zone. What they’d hoped to achieve was anyone’s guess. Once the last of the Alliance landing craft had been retrieved, the task force commander ordered his units form up and withdraw, the two battle-cruisers in the vanguard, the Crossbow and assault ships following line astern, all surrounded by a screen of cruisers and destroyers.

  Just seconds later, the two enemy cruisers dropped out of warp at almost point blank range. The ensuing exchange was so one-sided that the Alliance commander almost felt sorry for them. The battle-cruisers opened fire immediately, their heavy weapons quickly overwhelming their smaller adversaries. Engines shattered and weapons crippled, both targets staggered out of line under a hail of fire. The leading cruiser managed to fire a few sporadic rounds from a single battery but only succeeded in drawing fire from a succession of Alliance ships as they swept past. Pummeled by dozens of missiles and proton beams, the hapless cruiser was quickly reduced to an unrecognizable jumble of scrap metal, drifting aimlessly as the Alliance fleet continued serenely on its way.

  In a few days, each ship of the task force would be safe back in its home port. For the Rampart, that meant in space dock above Falkrys. Even before the ship was secured to its pier, the chief’s belongings would be packed into containers, ready to be sent on to his next of kin. Young Harper would join the pool and in the fullness of time he’d join a new crew. He was a good kid, thought Redmayne. Quick to learn and eager to please, he’d be an asset to whatever ship he joined. He’d do just fine.

  As for himself, Redmayne would use the time to pack up his things in preparation for his next tour. But where to? Somewhere away from the front lines – they’d tell him he’d earned it – most likely a posting to an Operational Training Unit. There he would instruct the next generation of landing craft pilots, pass on his experiences and teach them the tricks of the trade, the inside information that might one day make the difference between a successful mission and yet another body bag, memorial service and letter of condolences.

  The thought of retiring from the front line failed to excite him. Before today he’d have been well satisfied with a posting to an OTU, but now? How exactly did he feel? Right now, he’d be happy never to see the inside of a lander ever again. Perversely, he realized that he didn’t want to leave the Rampart either. He wondered briefly if there would be any other options open to him.

  At present there weren’t, but that would change.

  * * *

  The border between Alliance and Combine space took the shape of a flattened ellipse. All along the ‘western’ end of the ellipse Alliance forces probed the front line, stretching the Combine defenses and searching for weaknesses. At the same time, NT forces mounted a similar campaign on the opposite side of the battle-space.

  After a few initial successes, the Alliance effort was first blunted and then held firmly in check as the Combine reorganized their forces and went on the defensive. After several weeks of stalemate, some flag officers – Monk and Vandenberg in particular – began to question the effectiveness of the broad front strategy. Losses were mounting for little appreciable gain. The losses were within acceptable limits – as far as loss of life could ever be called truly acceptable – but a few more weeks of this and Torrance knew he might have to consider a change in strategy.

  Then his corps commanders started to report a change in the Combine’s posture. The enemy was conceding space without the Alliance having to pay the usual price in ships and manpower. Combine counter attacks lacked their usual tenacity and most telling of all, their battle groups began breaking off and withdrawing from battle sooner than they had previously done. It wasn’t a question of nerve or resolve – Combine discipline was as firm as ever and they never allowed a retreat to descend into a rout. It was a change in strategy.

  Reading through the combat reports, it seemed clear to Torrance that the Combine were being more judicious about the battles they fought. As one of his commanders put it, ‘They’ve stopped upping the ante. They resist fiercely where they can but fall back to regroup when they are outnumbered. Their previous doctrine was to hold the line and wait for reinforcements. My gut feeling is that they are trying to avoid or at least reduce losses, perhaps even at the expense of some of their outlying systems.’

  NT dispatches from the other side of the battle-space told a different story – after a series of fierce actions, the Combine had dug in, blocking the NT offensive. The danger now was that the Combine would attempt to build up its forces for a major offensive of its own – an offensive which the NT might not survive.

  Torrance stared at the tactical map displayed on a large screen in the Combat Information Center on Trinity Base. Over the past few weeks, a line of blue icons denoting friendly units had advanced slowly but surely into the Combine left flank. The new front line – if it could be called that – was now fluid with both sides vying for position. The Alliance was continuing to probe and harry, searching for the next weakness. Meanwhile, the Combine was attempting to both repel and entrench at the same time, but in a dozen places across the front it was succeeding at neither.

  The message was clear for Torrance to see. The broad front offensive had at last achieved its objectives; the Combine had been stretched to its limit. If the Alliance was to come to the aid of its allies, the time to strike was now.

  Chapter 19: Strategy and Tactics

  Trinity base

  Strategy and tactics were two of the most overused and least understood words in the history of warfare – a catch-all to encompass the thoughts and ideas of the politicians, admirals and generals who spent their days deciding how a war should be fought and most importantly, how it could be won.

  Strategy was the purview of the politicians and highest echelons of the military hierarchy, the men who prowled the halls of GHQ. The elected politicians decided when to go to war and with whom to fight. They established the objectives of the conflict and then enlisted the aid of the generals who in turn decided how best to achieve those objectives. Together they would arrive at an overall strategy that would involve allotment of resources, production of materiel, allocation of forces and – broadly speaking – decisions as to when and where to attack.

  At the other end of the spectrum were tactics – the bread and butter of the men who prowled the battlefield. These were men with weapons in their hands – anything from an admiral maneuvering his fleet to a sergeant leading a rifle squad. Tactics were a means to an end, and to one end only – the death and destruction of the enemy. Kill enough of his soldiers, destroy enough of his ships and you would be victorious.

  Colonel Franz J. Sholto was chief of the Operational Planning Staff. Most people outside the military might be surprised to hear that he was – technically speaking at least – concerned with neither strategy nor tactics. The politicians and generals decided the overall strategy and from there it was
the job of his department to come up with a range of ideas to enable the men at the sharp end to employ their tactical prowess and so destroy the enemy.

  Sholto and his team had planned the systematic reduction of the Combine left flank. A probe here, a feint there; they were even given limited access to a double agent who was in a position to feed disinformation to the enemy.

  Now, Sholto was charged with planning a major offensive into the Combine heartland. As a matter of procedure, his department had maintained a number of battle plans which were updated on a continuous basis. Some had been shelved when they had entered into an alliance with the NT. Others were discarded as being impractical. Still more were deemed obsolete, overtaken by events or a simple change in fortune.

  Sholto sat on a leather chair in the marbled hall outside the conference room. It wasn’t the first time he had delivered a presentation to the Joint Chiefs – indeed, he’d sat in this chair several times before as he waited to be summoned to the inner sanctum of his lords and masters. But this time there was something different – a perceptible change in the atmosphere of the place; the corridors seemed a little brighter and there was a purposeful look about the servicemen and women as they passed by; a sharpness in their manner and a spring in their step.

  As he looked on, a young lieutenant approached and saluted smartly. “The Joint Chiefs will see you now, sir,” he said. Sholto followed the officer past the marine guards, through the ante room and into the conference chamber with its mix of the traditional and the ultra modern. A large, polished wooden table sat in the center of the room, at the far end of which sat General Torrance, flanked on either side by the other four Joint Chiefs and Brigadier Faulkner, the Director of Intelligence. At a cue from Torrance, Sholto took his place at the podium directly opposite the C-in-C.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he began. “Following the C-in-C’s instructions regarding a combined Alliance/NT offensive, we have two proposals for your consideration.

  “First is Operation Blowpipe,” he said as a star map appeared on the screen behind him. “Blowpipe is a continuation of the present campaign with a gradual increase of pressure on the enemy’s left flank. At a time to be determined, we punch through the lines to take Yao, a colony with considerable commercial value, a significant military infrastructure and the key to their whole left flank.” As he spoke the view zoomed in to show a series of blue and green arrows breaking through the Combine lines and converging on the planet of Yao. The red icons of the Combine conveniently fell back under the assault, allowing the Alliance to occupy their objective. It looks so easy, thought Torrance. If only it were so simple in real life.

  “Once Yao falls,” continued Sholto, “the colonies of Paleon, Titus and Karnak will be isolated from the rest of Combine space. Cut off from support and lacking any appreciable defenses of their own, we would expect them to capitulate reasonably quickly. With the rear secure, Yao would then be the ideal staging area from which to launch a joint Alliance/NT offensive into the remainder of Combine space.

  “Second is Operation Divisive. This plan also involves a continuation of the present campaign, the objective being to draw Combine power away from their center. Once their center had been sufficiently weakened, we switch our axis of attack and launch an offensive against Tarsus, almost exactly in the center of Combine space. Although Tarsus remains one of the Combine’s most heavily defended systems, intelligence has shown that they have already weakened their defenses in the center to support operations on their left. As has been pointed out, the capture of Tarsus would split the Combine in two.” Torrance and the others watched as another battery of arrows danced across Combine space as Sholto spoke.

  “Feasibility studies indicate that both options are viable. We have the necessary assault and support forces at our disposal. A summary of the fleet dispositions, projected losses and a suggested timetable for relative deployments are displayed both on the screen and in the documentation provided. There are, however, two factors which should be taken into account. Firstly, either offensive will require very careful coordination with our allies. And secondly, there is a finite window of opportunity. The NT is experiencing a slow but very real degradation of its fighting abilities. Meanwhile, the Combine has accelerated its shipbuilding and training programs.”

  “Brigadier Faulkner, does Intelligence have anything to add?” said Torrance.

  “The military implications go without saying but there are also political ramifications that we may wish to consider. Tarsus is the Combine’s second largest asset. If it were to be lost, the Combine government might not survive.”

  “What difference would it make,” said Leyland. “Their war effort is directed solely by the ruling military junta.”

  “True, but not only does their senate act as a brake on the machinations of the junta, it is with the same senate that we would eventually hope to negotiate some kind of peace. If the government were to fall, it could well trigger a total military coup, the consequences of which would be difficult to predict.”

  “Could not the same be said if they lost Yao?” asked Monk.

  “Possibly,” replied Faulkner. “But Yao lies towards the edge of their Territory. I doubt if it would have the same psychological effect as having a victorious enemy battle fleet sitting in the center of their empire.”

  “The point is noted,” said Torrance. “But at this stage of the proceedings I don’t think we can concern ourselves with the political fall-out on the other side of the border.”

  “I agree,” said Stewart. “Fight the battle and deal with the consequences later. Right now I’m more concerned with what the Combine fleet is doing – and whether we can coordinate effectively with the NT.”

  “There is also the question of security,” said Faulkner slowly. “Given Colonel Sholto’s comments regarding the limited time frame, I imagine that the General Staff will come to a speedy decision whichever plan they decide to adopt?”

  “That is so,” replied Torrance.

  “Then it is my recommendation that Trinity base be placed under a Level One security footing until the orders have been written and the fleet is on the move.”

  “Level One?” said Monk.

  “Yes, sir. It is my recommendation that all leave is cancelled, all personnel confined to base and unnecessary civilian access denied. No exceptions.”

  “Is that necessary?” said Leyland.

  “I believe it is,” said Faulkner. He looked over to Torrance who nodded.

  “Please continue, Brigadier,” Torrance said.

  “Gentlemen,” began Faulkner. “It is my duty to inform you that during the last few months, one of our counter-intelligence officers has managed to infiltrate a Combine cell operating within Tycho City. Our operative has gained only limited access to information but from what we have learned to date, it is obvious that the Combine is running an agent here on Trinity Base – someone with access to classified information and in particular, fleet deployment orders. That narrows it down to a couple of dozen officers – most likely someone in fleet operations. I believe it’s only a matter of time before we apprehend the informer but I imagine the gravity of having a Combine spy with access to fleet movement orders will not be lost on you.”

  “Could blow the whole damned operation to hell,” said Vandenberg.

  “Exactly, which is why I request that all leave be cancelled and personnel confined to base.”

  “The Joint Chiefs will consider our next move behind closed doors,” said Torrance. “Keep looking for that spy, Brigadier – make it your top priority. Once the offensive starts, the troops will be busy enough so for the time being allow leave to continue. The exception is anyone with knowledge of Blowpipe or Divisive, and that includes everyone around this table. We are now very much confined to base, gentlemen. As for the planning staff, confine the whole lot to their quarters if you have to. As soon as we’ve arrived at a decision we will move to a Level One footing across the base. Thank you, gentlemen. That
is all.”

  * * *

  Fleet Intel, Trinity Base

  “Do you think our man will bite?” said Torrance.

  “A complete set of battle plans for the coming offensive is one hell of a lure,” said Faulkner. “If he doesn’t bite now, he never will.”

  “And Commander Franklin is still cooperating?”

  “Yes, he’s being very accommodating – which is in his best interests, of course. He’s still in touch with his handlers – not that he ever meets them personally – and he still uses the same dead drop in that park. The only uncertainty is whether our target – whether Stewart or Monk – will attempt to make contact with him. With both Stewart and Monk confined to base, Franklin will, I hope, be the only conduit for getting information out. Announcing the fact that we know about the existence of Franklin was a calculated risk, but one I hope will bear fruit. Our man will know that he has to act quickly before we close the net on Franklin.”

  “Not knowing that the net closed weeks ago.”

  “If all goes according to plan,” said Faulkner.

  “Neither Monk nor Steward have left the base. That much we know. Can we be sure that they have no other means of passing on information?”

  “Both their quarters and their offices have been thoroughly searched. If they have some electronic means to relay information, it must lie elsewhere. There are always possibilities that we haven’t considered, but our two admirals are being watched very carefully. Right now, Franklin is the best link we have. Waiting is always the most difficult part of the game. Are you much of a fisherman, General?”