“I apologize for the first minister’s absence, but he recently lost a family member in the bombing raid on foundation,” she said. “For the time being I will sit in on the general staff meetings, no let’s get down to business.” Admiral Marlin cleared his throat. With the Fleet admiral preoccupied in space, he stood in as representative for the new year.
“Despite our best efforts, The Tharcians continue to give us the slip in the asteroid belt,” he said. “Without a foothold there, we will not be able to attack their assets in the Jupiter sphere.” Pearson narrowed her gaze.
“Why bother with their belt forces when they sit on Deimos?” She asked. The Admiral cleared his throat.
“Because the defenses around Deimos are strong,” he said. “We wouldn’t engage them until their forces outside the Mars Sphere have been neutralized.” He brought up a holographic image of the solar system and zoomed in on Jupiter. “And those forces are substantial, without a point to fall back to, any task force we sent to Jupiter would become stranded even if they did prove victorious, it’s what we believe happened to the lost fleet in the last war.”
Secretary Pearson leaned over the table. “Listen comrades, the First Minister rattled quite a few cages when he announced you people would be represented in TUCs. The National Trades Union Congress has a significant faction that want’s signing an armistice with Tharsis,” she said. “I assume you all know what that could mean?” Every head in the room nodded in agreement.
“Another war in ten years,” a general near Chaney muttered. “We can’t have that.” The Secretary looked from the Admirals to the Generals, some MAGs, but a few regulars as well.
“We need a significant victory,” she said. “One that convinces the pro-armistice faction to go along with the war.” General Dunlap scratched at his chin while he spoke.
“Are the Avalonians going to take over the pacification of Southern Olympia?” he asked. “We could use those forces against the Tharcians.” The secretary’s mouth quivered slightly, to Chaney it looked like she was about to scowl. Instead, she smiled.
“We’ll leave that up to our ambassador’s union,” she said. “We can’t ask too much of them, otherwise they may ask for more concessions than we would want to give.” Just like I thought, they’re our allies, but not our friends.
“What do they want?” another General asked. “All I’ve heard them do is destroy colonies resisting them.”
“Habitats,” Secretary Pearson corrected. “They’re destroying Olympian habitats, we don’t use the language of colonizers.” Bad move, man, you got to remember she’s a politician. The General cleared his throat.
“I apologize,” he said. “But my point still stands, Avalon and her mad king are making choices we can’t condone, millions of people are dying in these ‘habitats’ and we look complicit if our allies act in this manner.”
An admiral across from him shook his head. “That’s Tharcian propaganda, they’re destroying partially built or derelict habitats as a demonstration of strength, to show the Olympians in space what they could do,” he said. Yeah, I don’t buy that.
“Enough,” the Secretary snapped. “I’ve already heard enough bootlicker lies today, perhaps the ground war is on the precipice of the victory we need.” She looked at the Generals to her left.
“Well, the northern front remains static,” one of them said. “We’ve set up air defenses in the hope we’d be able to stop their strategic bombing, In addition, we managed to wrest control of the Wilhelm islands on the East Coast of Tharsis.”
The Secretary sighed. “A dozen tiny islands isn’t a major victory,” she said before smiling. “But it’s a start.” She looks further down the line. “I take it there’s been little movement out of Gallacia?” The two generals to Chaney’s left shook their heads.
“We’ve made some progress,” one said. “We believe we can capture Vaterland by spring if our plans progress as they are.” She smiled. “Would that be the victory you were looking for?”
“Definitely,” Pearson replied. “Mind you, the armistice faction isn’t large enough to stop us from continuing the war, but it is large enough that it could prove problematic when the time comes to recognize the military in the national Trades Union Congress.” She looked directly at Chaney. “Although many of them would sign on if perhaps they received a military procurement contract?” Chaney picked his next words carefully.
“The Unions we have are working from proven designs and adding onto it,” he said. “It’s far more efficient to build 1000 of everything we have right now, then to add in different designs made by Co-Ops with no experience.” He raised his hand. “For example, if a Co-op that made bikes in the PMR wanted to build rifles under license from our current manufacture, That would be fine, but what I’m seeing is bicycle Co-ops sending me panzerter designs they want to build just because they have someone mildly artistically gifted and nobody is buying a bike right now.”
The Secretary chuckled at his remark. “I understand your frustration,” she said. “But if there’s an opportunity to expand production, I think we should take it. Our economy needs to be fully tuned for all out war, and I’ve considered asking the First Minister to invoke the Milita clause.” That elicited gasps from around the room.
“We can win the war just fine,” one of the generals swore. “We don’t need help from poets and artists!” Admiral Marlin leaned over the table.
“Are you sure comrade secretary?” he asked. “The long term damage to our economy might be irreversible.” Slamming her hands on the table, Secretary Pearson glowered at them.
“You think I don’t know the consequences?” she asked. “Because I do, my nephew is in a news union. He would be called to battle if the situation called for it, but like I said, I’m going to talk to the First Minister about it.” She gave one last look around the room before adjourning the meeting. Chaney wandered out in the hall, desperate to avoid the other brass nagging him about prototypes.
Voices came from around a corner a short distance away. “I don’t care what the repercussions are, It’s Tharcian territory, its fair game,” said the Secretary.
“But Melissa, those habitats are among the Orkney and Kami archipelago,” Admiral Marlin replied. “It’s all too easy for an international incident, besides how are panzerters supposed to enter a habitat if the docking bay is closed.”
“Figure it out,” the secretary growled, followed by the click of her heels on the marble floor. Fuck, what is that woman getting us into?
5
Rieter backed away from the operational map that hung in Hawke’s cramped office. He’d rearranged the pins just to show his superior officer the idea he had brewing in hi head. Slowly, Hawke nodded as he took in the information presented before him.
“I like it,” he said. “This war has gotten to stagnant for my liking, it doesn’t play to our strengths.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head.
Rieter circled the map with his hands as if he was washing a window. “Well, there’s the matter of finding a place to create this ’channel’ and convincing the Union they’re not being had, but aside from this, that’s all I got,” he said. Drawing his phone, he snapped a picture of the map and did the same for Hawke before restoring it to the current situation.
Hawke rose from his creaking chair and edged past Reiter to get to his computer. “This is something I’ll have to bring up to General Orban and the other Regiments,” He said. Sitting back at his desk, he opened his computer and went to work. “It’s ultimately Orban’s call, but the other regiments might have other ideas we didn’t think of. That being said, it’s a damn good idea.”
Reiter scratched at the back of his head and grinned. “LT Wesser inspired me, she mentioned Olympian Ju-jitsu and the mental picture led me to counterattack the Union while they’re attacking.”
“Really? I think you pictured Judo,” Hawke said with a chuckle. “I don’t think Ju-jitsu has elaborate counters or thr
ows like you imagined.”
As he shrugged, Reiter stepped towards the door. “I’m not a martial artist sir, I just pilot a panzerter,” he replied. Closing the door behind him, he tipped his hat to Friermann and left. He’d barley made it a block down the road when Mo came bounding across the street.
“No way,” the younger man said breathlessly. “Why does it say Lowe-arms type next to my name on the ready room? Did you have something to do with this?”
Reiter nodded and clapped the excited young man on the shoulder. “You’re by far the best pilot we have, besides it means your old Mark IV can go toe to toe with any Union tinhat.” Although now I have the logistical problem of having two advanced machines with limited parts. He gestured for Mo to follow him. “Not to curb your enthusiasm, but what have you thought of your new LT so far?”
Mo shrugged, Still smiling at the thought of the heavy panzerter waiting for him in the motor pool. “I mean, she’s been alright so far,” he said. “She’s been sour since that last battle, but its whatever.” Something about his tone caught Reiter’s attention.
“Sour, but it’s whatever?” he drawled. “How so?” Mo shrugged.
“Like she stays in her room while I run drills, she rarely comes out, and I need to drop off food to make sure she eats,” he replied. “I would not say anything, you know I figured I’d just deal with it.” Reiter furrowed his brow.
“I’ll have a word with Kozma and see if he can talk to her,” he finally said. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to get on her case immediately, we need to work up to that.”
Mo walked a little further away. “You know, not to second guess you or anything, but why didn’t you assign Wesser to White platoon?” Reiter glanced at the younger man. “You know, get some girl power concentrated over there, Steele would probably be better at getting her used to combat than I am.”
Rieter sighed. “You’re right to have your questions,” he said. “As long as you keep that between us, based on the profiles I had for both of our lieutenant I tried to pair them with a sergeant who’s personality complimented there’s.”
He pointed over to the motor pool, where Kozma laughed with Merlin JR and Steele as they stuffed sandbags with snow. “Kozma profiled as an airhead with a brash streak, not exactly a hothead, but still fairly impulsive.” They waved when they noticed him, and Rieter and Mo waved back. “Someone who paired nicely with your girlfriend’s even-heeled personality.”
Mo’s cheeks turned red, though not from the cold. “We’re not-uh-she’s not-uh-it’s more complex than that,” Mo replied.
“Oh,” Reiter said, letting the thread of that conversation die right there. Probably something to do with Bartonova’s death, I’ll be more careful next time. “Anyway, Wesser profiled as your typical wallflower, so we paired her with the most tenacious and hot-blooded sergeant I had.”
Mo snorted. “Considering there’s two of us in the armor platoons, that must have been a straightforward choice,” he said. He folded his arms and looked back at white platoon. “So, you’re going to have Kozma talk to her, huh?”
Reiter nodded. “Yeah, is there an issue with that?” What had started as work had turned into a snowball fight across the street. Steele giggled and yelped as Merlin and Kozma pelted her. Reiter chuckled, but Mo remained silent.
“Yeah, if its alright with you, I want to sit down and talk to her,” he finally said. “If I need to give her a dressing down, I can do that and stay professional, but I think Black platoon should solve Black platoon’s issues.”
Though he couldn’t pick up on it, something about Mo’s words made Rieter uncomfortable. “I’ll sign off on that,” he said. “So long as Black Platoon’s problems don’t become Fox Company’s problems.” Mo nodded and before Rieter could look back up, a snowball struck him in the face. Gasping from the sudden chill and the thump to his nose, Rieter held his face while Mo bellowed.
“Merlin! Get over here now!” Rieter looked up to see Merlin’s horrified face holding a second snowball. Kozma and Steele were also prepared to throw snowballs, but now looked worried.
“Bring that snow ball with you,” Rieter said. Mo glanced at him. Their eyes met and the younger man already knew what Rieter was going to do. He held his face where the snowball had hit him, but now it was to hide his smile.
“Sir,” Merlin said. His gloved hands trembled as they held the snowball in front of him.
Rieter took a deep breath through his hands. “Don’t smile or laugh,” he whispered. “I’m not mad, that was a textbook perfect ambush.” Mo stood beside him with a stern expression, nodding enthusiastically. By now, Kozma and Steele had dropped their snowballs and began walking over to hear what he was saying. “Kozma is crossing the street to your 5. On my signal, whip around and hit him in the face.”
Merlin’s horrified face broke into a shit-eating grin. “Yes sir, yes sir, understood sir.” His face was delighted, his tone was scared shitless. Perfect, I wish I could put this kid in for an Actor’s List Award.
“Now.” Despite sounding muffled through his hands, Merlin had heard him loud and clear. As Merlin turned, Mo and Rieter dropped to their knees.
“Son of a bitch!” Kozma cried as Merlin’s snowball struck him in the forehead. Steele laughed as the others pelted her and her lt.
“Traitor!” she said between giggles. Rieter caught Mo smiling out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, Kozma and Steele held up their hands.
“Alright, you got us,” he said as they walked up. Rieter patted Merlin on the back.
“Frosty here needs an award for his acting skills as much as anything else,” he said. Merlin looked confused.
“Frosty?”
“It’s your war name,” Rieter said with a grin.
Steele laughed. “Like that old cartoon! I love it!” They stood there on the sidewalk, laughing and calling Merlin JR Frosty. With all the death and violence, I don’t mind these comments of levity. Not at all.
Kennedy pulled up his gaiter to better cover his mouth and nose. The Storm’s getting bad, it would on the night I’m supposed to move out. Knight, recognizable from his massive silhouette, saluted him as he approached the FOB gates.
“I double checked, the Red Guards and the Headquarters company are ready to move out,” he said. Kennedy gestured the man to follow him as he reviewed the convoy. Their four Jupiter Panzerters idled in the center of the formation. Three scout cars formed the lead element. The two-seater four-wheeled vehicles were best suited for the security/ recon role they were being used for.
Beyond them, four bulky supply trucks followed. The box looking trucks each carried vital supplies: a field kitchen, a mobile HQ, and two ammo haulers. Behind the panzerters, four more supply trucks carried spare parts and recovery equipment. Each supply truck towed a water tank containing filtered water for their soldiers. Three more scout cars brought up the rear with an additional three going to each side.
Kennedy turned to face Knight. “You already briefed them, correct?”
The big nodded. “Halphen did most of it, but I took care of actions on.” They walked back to their Panzerters idling in the falling snow.
“It might suck, but I’m ok with moving the entire battalion in this snowstorm,” Kennedy said. “If nothing else, the Tharcians won’t wanna fuck around in the snow.” He had to yell to be heard of the howl of the driving snow.
Knight pointed to the sky in response. “You’re not the only one who thought that.” Kennedy looked back to see Dropships rising from the short tarmac that served as an airstrip. The drone of their engines blended with the howling snow around them.
Kennedy shook his head. “I need to talk to Meyer, that’s asking for disaster.” Knight grabbed his shoulder.
“Hey comrade, they can handle the wind, what’s your problem?” he asked. Now both men were shouting to be heard over the wind and the noise of engines.
With a finger jabbed at the dropships leaving, Kennedy rounded on Knight. “I
t isn’t they can’t fly, its navigation.”
“What?”
“It’s navigation, without GPS or visual landmarks, how the hell do they now they’re in the right place?”
“What?” Knight shook his head and shrugged him. “Can’t hear you, but talk to Meyer if it’s an emergency.” Kennedy turned and ran as fast as his bundled legs could carry him. The temporary and hasty setup of FOB Nike would have made it difficult to navigate. After sticking his head in a secondary mess, the clinic, and a group therapy lounge, he finally found headquarters.
I’ve been in here a dozen times. If I calmed down a tad, I would have found it. He rushed into the war room with such a flurry, everyone looked at him as he stumbled in.
“Kennedy,” Meyer said. “I thought you had moved out already.” He yanked down on his gaiter, exposing his mouth and nose to the warm room.
“What are the dropships doing?” he asked. “Because without a reliable way to navigate, sending them up is inviting disaster.” Irving reared her condensing head, lurking behind Kennedy as the man approached the map table.
She scoffed, and he turned to see her hold up her tablet. “This operation has a high chance of success,” she said. “The raiders got their heading from us using our mapping software. As long as they fly straight and low, they’ll reach Narrowfield.”
Kennedy shook his head. “Young comrade, do you have any idea how difficult that is?”
“How hard can it really be?” she replied. “All they need to do is go straight, even if they deviate slightly they should end up at their destination.” Kennedy looked back at Meyer.
The older woman folded her arms. “Now listen, I had my misgivings, but she took the plan to Santana and he enthusiastically approved,” she said. “And he’s the expert on what his people are capable of.”
Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle Page 7