by C. R. Daems
"We're raised in a crèche. Most of us are what you would call orphans, for one reason or another. By age six we are separated into two groups. One group goes to a normal orphanage where they are taught skills to earn a living. The other group begins training to be Mactans. Each subsequent year's training is a combination of conditioning, self-defense, and schooling. By age twelve we are again separated into two groups. One group enters government service: army, navy, or support services. The other group continues Mactan training. Finally, at age eighteen the group is separated again. One group goes into the special security police, and the other goes into advanced Mactan training. There, we train in groups and our rank and function are established. Around age twenty-two the group graduates and is available for assignments. By that time, we're well educated and trained in the art of war."
"And I thought marine training was hard." Chow laughed. "I'd imagine the duty is just as boring as being a marine on a war ship."
"Learning to focus on the job is the hardest part, since the odds of something happening are low on most assignments. Consequently, it's a major part of our early training. After fifty or so lessons one learns."
"Lessons?"
"A hit with a fifty thousand volt Taser or a blast from a fire hose or…"
Chow smiled. "That would be something one would remember. I have several marines who could use a few of those lessons. Thank you, Colonel. You and your troops are welcome to use our workout area anytime."
* * *
"An interesting style of fighting, Colonel," Gunny Chow said as he stood with Akar watching the Mactans in practice matches. "I would have thought your style more…aggressive."
"The purpose is to kill or disable, not to cause pain. If I break my opponent’s jaw or crack a rib, that does not stop the fight. I wager it would just make your average marine more aggressive," Akar said. Chow nodded, and a small smile creased his lips.
"True, they get those injuries practicing. But your moves are…so slow and feather light."
"That is because each feather light touch is in a place that would kill or cripple, and that would soon leave me without a team. They practice slowly so that I, or their instructor, can see any weaknesses in their technique. If you move fast, it's hard to see if you were in perfect balance when you delivered the blow. Or whether the force of the blow came from your arm or from your waist; or whether you hit the right area but not the specific nerve, artery, or organ; or whether your breathing is in synch with the force of the blow."
"What do you mean when you say the force was from the arm or the waist?"
"A blow using your arm muscles is not only weaker than one where the force comes from the waist, but it is slower, takes more time to throw, and gives your opponent a second or two to react."
"Can you demonstrate that, because I'm not sure I understand?" Chow frowned in thought. Akar nodded and made several finger and hand movements while looking in the direction of the Mactans. A couple minutes later, Sergeant Ceba came with what looked like a wooden board forty-five centimeters square with two handles.
"That board takes twelve hundred pounds of force per square centimeter to separate."
"I doubt Kurt could break that." Chow nodded in the direction of a two-hundred-centimeter-tall man who rippled with muscle and was presently lifting weights.
When Akar nodded to Ceba, he braced himself with one foot back, grabbed the board by the handles, and extended it out chest high with his elbows locked.
"Gunny, hold your fist about thirty centimeters in front of the board and balance yourself ready to throw a punch at the board." Akar nodded towards Ceba, whose lip twitched and eyes sparkled with amusement. While Akar talked, the workout area had become quiet, and marines began to gather around the three.
"You're joking." Chow shrugged and slowly pulled his arm back.
"No, Gunny. You can bend your arm but keep your fist within thirty centimeters. The power will come from the muscles in your arm—arm power."
Chow shrugged and frowned in concentration for a moment, and then his fist slammed into the board. He winced in pain but to his credit didn't make a sound. "Kurt," he shouted. When Kurt stepped out of the group that was standing around watching, he was smiling. "You try it."
Kurt nodded, stepped up to the board, and put his right foot back into a solid stance. As he studied the board, marines were taking bets. He raised his fist in front of the board then looked to Akar, who nodded, then his face tightened in concentration and the muscles in his arm bulged a second before he struck. The look on his face was priceless—shock—which was matched by most of the marines watching. Before anyone could say anything, Kurt drew his arm back and struck the board again.
Cebe slid back a few inches, but the board remained intact. Akar waved to Gephel, a Mactan corporal, who came walking over. When Akar nodded to the board, Gephel walked up and raised his hand, fingertips less than ten centimeters from the board. Suddenly, he twisted right and his palm drove into and through the board as it split in half.
"That power came from the waist, through the arm, and into the palm. That force is not only intended to break bone but to drive the fractured bone into organs." Akar's statement was greeted with stunned silence.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Waiting upon the Issog
"Well, Captain LaFon, you have had time to consider the problem. In light of our previous discussion, any suggestion on how best to utilize the Odin and your squadron when the Issog come to replenish their…supplies." Simons winched slightly, as I did, at the thought of what those supplies cost in pain and suffering for the people on Durban. Even those not captured by the Issog lived in constant fear of being caught by one of the periodic hunting parties looking for new milking stock.
"I would like to try rattling them again. What if you station my squadron at the six-light-second mark, several squadrons at the eight, and the Sakhmet and the remaining squadrons around Durban?" I waited for her reaction—she had asked me how to utilize the Odin squadron, not to position her fleet. Captain Lipscomb frowned but said nothing. Simons nodded, which I took as permission to continue. "The squadron at six and eight light-seconds would remain powered down. The Issog won't skip until they are within four light-seconds, or less, as it would use too much of their skip capacity. When they get in range, the Odin squadron will attack and then skip to the eight-light-second group. Hopefully, the Issog will skip after me and into the squadrons waiting there. After that it depends on their commander."
Simons sat gazing off into space while tapping on her desk. "I like it. The Sakhmet and those orbiting Durban will keep their lights on as an enticement. It might work, unless they send in a fleet." She gave a snort. "But that is unlikely. They don't know we are here, so it should be supply ships plus a normal escort. At least this time, they have to come to us. Take up your proposed position at the six-light-second mark. I'll have Captain Perkins contact you when he's in position. Then, you can establish a vector to his group and set up a tight beam connection for coordination." She cut the connection. I immediately contacted my staff. Five minutes later, I had everyone in my conference room and Lahti and Bergan on a split screen on the room monitor.
"Our assigned position is the six-light-second mark on a direct path from the Wave exit. Once there, we will cut back to minimum power and wait for the Issog to make their next supply run. Several squadrons will take up positions at eight light-seconds, also at minimum power. The Skelmet and her escort will remain in orbit around Durban with their sensors active."
"What's the plan?" Lahti asked, a predatory grin on her lips. Bergan seemed to lean toward the monitor as if that would help him hear. His eyes, like Lahti’s, danced with excitement. The room became suddenly silent as everyone awaited the answer.
"The Issog like skipping because they can somehow compute our cruisers' positions and fire their missiles ten to twenty seconds faster than our cruisers. Consequently, they won't skip to attack from more than three or four light-seconds out, as it
wastes their eight-second reserve. We can therefore expect them to approach on a direct line from the Wave exit to Durban. I thought we would fire on them and then skip two seconds into the area where Captain Perkins will have his squadrons waiting. After that, we will have to respond to the situation. For now, proceed on vector one-five-zero by zero-one-zero to the six-light-second mark." I cut the connection and looked around the conference-room table. "There is no reason to man the sections full time. We will have several hours’ notice, since we will be a good six light-seconds from the Wave exit, and I'd like everyone rested and at their best when the action begins."
* * *
I let the primary Bridge crew take the first shift while I roamed the ship talking with each section chief, and then watched Doctor Felder while she performed an autopsy on several Issogs and described what she thought would be vulnerable areas. The marines who had actually fought the Issog were able to verify most of Felder's findings and conclusions.
"Your earlier observations appear to have been correct—they are very good fighters and difficult to kill," I said to Akar after listening to everyone.
"I think the marines will do better in their next confrontation now that they know the Issog's vulnerable areas. Of course, the Issog will still be dangerous because of their ability to…glide and their quicker reflexes, but less so as the marines know their strengths and weaknesses."
"What about the Mactans?" I asked, more curious about Akar's answer than the reality, as I doubted the Mactans would ever meet the Issog.
"Now that we understand their strengths and weaknesses, I believe our training will give us a two-to-one advantage. Before, I believe the Issog would have had a three-to-two edge."
"Training?" I asked, not sure if he meant the years or something else.
"When we fight, we fight," he said as if the statement was handed down from one of the space gods.
"I'm not sure I understand?"
"I mean our total focus is on fighting, with no thoughts of winning or losing or dying or hate or revenge…just the fight. That takes years to develop. Most cannot help but have thoughts interrupt their concentration: he's better than me, I'm better than him, he cut me, I'm bleeding, I could die, he's disgusting looking, where are my buddies…"
I stood thinking about what he had said for a long time. "I think I understand. Before the Odin I wouldn't have, but now I do. When I’m alone on the Bridge, all the decisions are mine and seconds matter, therefore my focus has to be concentrated totally on the action. Distractions would cost me valuable seconds, which could result in the destruction of the Odin."
Akar nodded. "In a one-on-one fight with an equally skilled opponent, a loss of concentration for even a second could cost you your life."
We walked in silence back to my quarters, where I slept for several hours before returning to the Bridge for shift change.
"Captain on the Bridge," Maize announced as I entered. "Ma'am, we are in position and have established a tight-beam connection with the Amsit and Sobek."
"Captain, the Ammut is requesting a connection," said Sainz, the communications officer.
"Accept and put Captain Perkins on monitor one, and connect the Sobek and Amsit. Put Lahti and Bergan on monitor two."
"Captain LaFon, I have my three squadrons in place. Admiral Simons says you have a plan." His narrow angular face looked amused, although he wasn't smiling.
"Yes, but it's short on details. I'm hoping a surprise attack on the Vamps as they approach my position will aggravate them enough to entice them to skip after me when I retreat to your position. Of course, that will depend on what the supply convoy looks like and how the Vamp Commander responds."
"In other words, you don't know what you or the Vamp Commander will do but we should be ready for anything." He sat stroking his chin and looking serious except for the twinkle in his eyes.
I nodded sagely. "That about sums it up."
"Good hunting, Zoe." He smiled before cutting the connection. When he did, the Ammut and other eight cruisers disappeared from the sensors.
"Captain LaFon, neither Captain Perkins nor you appear to care about your plan," Lahti said, but it was clearly an I'm confused query.
"Perkins and I have fought the Issog many times and know they seldom cooperate with our plans. We make plans, like now—we're at six light-seconds, he's at eight, and the Odin squadron will do whatever we can to rattle the Issog and make them do something stupid that Perkins can use to our advantage. But that depends less on what we do and more on how the Issog respond. In fact, I want you and Bergan to wait to see how they respond to the Odin before you act. Pick your targets and wait." I cut the connection when nods and predatory grins appeared.
* * *
Sixty-five hours later, the Issog were seen exiting the Wave. The sensors identified six batmobiles escorting four transports, which were most likely a combination of troop ships carrying replacements and empty supply ships. I waited patiently as the convoy approached the six-light-second mark, noting that the transports had slowed to allow the escorting cruisers to move ahead, probably because the Issog commander had detected the presence of Commonwealth ships orbiting Durban.
Given their acceleration remained consistent, the transports would be one light-second behind the cruisers by the time the escorting ships were in our attack area. That made for a dilemma—which group to attack. The transports weren't much of a threat, as they were lightly armed, had no reinforced battle metal, and were unable to outrun a cruiser. The eight cruisers were dangerous, but the Odin squadron could safely jump to the supporting taskforce after damaging, or possibly destroying, one or more of the cruisers. A thought Lahti and Bergan were excitedly anticipating.
But the object was to rattle the escorting commander, making him and his squadron vulnerable, so I let the cruisers pass and waited as the transports crept closer—thirty thousand kilometers, twenty-five. At twenty thousand kilometers, I fired three missiles at each transport—time to impact ten seconds. As the tubes reloaded, I waited for the reaction of the escort's commander.
My missiles scored multiple hits on each transport. In one case, the automatic laser defense took out one of the three missiles. Ten seconds later, all eight of the escorting batmobiles skipped back. Twelve seconds later, they fired on the Odin. I executed a two-second skip to the awaiting Commonwealth squadrons. No one followed. I assumed they were awaiting to reload first. But as they waited, the Sobek and Amsit struck, sending four missiles at each transport: two exploded and two were heavily damaged. They jumped immediately, followed by the eight Issog escorts, which would have their missile tubes loaded by the time they located the three cruisers who just attacked their transports—too enraged to consider a possible trap.
As they appeared, I computed the vectors to two of the cruisers and fired four missiles at each and waited. Ten seconds later they fired, targeting the Odin, Sobek, and the Amsit. We skipped back almost simultaneously. While the Issog squadron waited to reload, Perkins’ squadrons fired. I picked out the two transports that were still functional and fired two missiles at each. One of the two exploded ten seconds later as all four scored direct hits. The second transport looked barely functional. I stayed, waiting to reload, knowing that the Issog commander wouldn't waste a two-second skip when he knew he couldn't save the transports and needed the remaining four-second skip-time to engage the squadrons attacking him.
While I waited, I tagged the Issog cruisers B1 thru B8 for display on my ESP and was amazed when I found I could not only mentally follow the battle, but also keep track of the individual Issog cruisers as they skipped to attack or avoid the Commonwealth cruisers. My new implant somehow allowed me to keep track of each skip by tag. When B2, B5, and B7 had used up their remaining five skips, I computed a vector to B2, skipped, refined the vector, fired five missiles, computed a vector to B5, and skipped. When I came out of the skip, I computed a firing vector to B5 and fired. When I scanned the ESP for B2, I found it had been destroyed and none
of the remaining batmobiles were functional. Perkins’ squadron had lost four cruisers, and his cruiser and two others looked only marginally functional. I called the Sobek and the Amsit. Bergan was first to appear.
"What's the status of the Sobek?"
Bergan looked tired but pleased. "We took a few hits, but we're functional." He smiled. "We gave better than we got, and the Sobek will get credit for one of the transports and maybe an assist on a cruiser."
Just then Lahti appeared on the monitor. "Sorry, we had six Vamp fighters trying to land on the Amsit, as their transportation was no longer available."
"What's your status?"
"Only minor missile damage, however one Vamp did manage to ram us. He caused the most damage…deaths, but we're functional." She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes.