by Chris Hechtl
“Ma'am?”
“There have been several convoys from Antigua. Captain Myers hasn't sent many additional troops yet, but they will soon. Also, I've gotten a report that Major Pendeckle's first battalion is undergoing movement here with the rest of Second Brigade to follow,” she said flicking her ears. “So we have support in the pipeline. But the last convoy had two squads of Recon troops led by Captain Senior Grade Lyon. They have been waiting on the ships for a ride down.”
“Ma'am, I think we can definitely use them. Most definitely,” Jethro stated with a nod.
The Neowolf nodded. She had Lyon by time in grade. He'd made it clear he was still feeling out his rank and preferred handling Recon, not line command. That was fine with her. “Yes. Admiral White has been reluctant to release a shuttle to drop them since the enemy has the ability to swat them down with ease. He's taken out a few of their fixed plasma weapons but that leaves the mobile ones to worry about, which is something we're going to deal with as I mentioned earlier.”
“Ma'am, the Recon teams could be inserted elsewhere. Near the spaceport and then work their way in. Find the enemy troops and neutralize them.”
“I was considering that. It would take a while for them to get into position. The other problem is we don't know how far out the enemy's anti-air net is, nor how effective it is. And another problem …,” she shook her head. “We've got Skyhawks. I should have brought my shuttle,” she grumbled.
“Skyhawks, ma'am? Not even Warhawks?” Jethro asked, blinking in disbelief. A Skyhawk was a Navy issue shuttle. It was a good design, simple, robust, with wings so it could do atmospheric landings. But it normally only did a rolling landing. He'd worked with one on Kathy's World; in fact they had three with them. During the fire they'd managed a brief midair stop. Emphasis on brief.
The Warhawk was the Marine version of the Skyhawk. It was designed to work in a threat environment, to get in and out. But it wasn't designed as a front line shuttle. That was where an assault shuttle or other attack craft came in.
Assault craft were designed to come in, hover, drop or pick up a squad or resupply cargo, and get out. They had armor; some had shields. They had defensive systems and armament. They had VTOL engines. But they could only carry a squad of troops, two if they were very friendly and on the small side.
The Marines of the past had also had attack craft, also known as a gunship. These were dedicated armed platforms that came in, softened an LZ up, took out any threats, and then loitered in the area to support the troops on the ground with airborne fire support as needed.
Unfortunately, they didn't have any in inventory, though Jethro had heard the colonel was trying to ram them through the admiralty. Apparently he hadn't had much luck, or it was a case of them being on Agnosta and not here. He flicked his ears. They'd have to deal with it.
There was a rumor that there was a militia gunship on the ground. They would look into it when they got dirtside.
“Damn it. Why didn't I swap it for a …,” Moira shook her head, stopping her muttering self-critique off. “Oh well, what's done is done I suppose. We have to live with it. I had hoped that Admiral Irons would have sent along front line equipment. Apparently not,” She said dryly. “So, we'll have to live with that too,” she said. She shook herself. “Well, if we can't do it the right way, we'll damn well have to do it the hard way.”
“Yes, ma'am. I suppose so,” Jethro said quietly. He wondered how many people they were about to lose.
<(>~^~<(>
Not all of the intel dump was about Protodon. Jojo managed to fill in Bast about the events on Lemnos as well as the follow-up on Antigua and the lead in to the invasion of Protodon.
“I wasn't expecting this. Not right away,” Jethro stated as the A.I. briefed him and the Marine officers.
“Apparently the admiral's timetable was accelerated. Something made him kick off early, probably earlier than he should have,” Moira replied. She shrugged at his expression and flicked her ears. “But what's done is done. Now we have to clean up the mess and move on.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“So, Admiral Irons promoted the surviving flag officers to Rear Admiral, then as they were shutting the facility back down this virus struck?” Lieutenant Chaing asked carefully. “But there was an amendment to the report stating they believe it's not dead?” He shook his head and looked up, clearly baffled. “How is that possible?”
“Bast?” Moira asked.
Bast's ears were back. She wasn't at all happy about her exposure but couldn't stop it. “Ma'am. The A.I. was linked to a changeling. That changeling was in charge of security, so that allowed it to gain control of the Lemnos facility's computer network or at least hide within it.”
“Okay …”
“Based on what we know, the wraith as Commander Sprite is calling it, was sabotaging the facility but doing it subtly. She and Lieutenant Commander Wong and a team of computer forensic specialists in Antigua are picking over the code even now. We don't have their latest reports, but it seems that the A.I. seeded parts of itself in every file. It spread through the ansible link the admiral had brought with him to Lemnos.”
“Oh. Lovely,” Lieutenant Chaing said, making a face.
“Yes. By now it's spread throughout the reborn Federation. Every computer is considered suspect. We're immune since we were out of contact, but it can be spread.”
“Spread, they can't contain it?”
“It's got subtle micro viruses that insert code into normal operating files. Then those files come together to coalesce into the A.I.,” Bast stated.”
“Lovely. So now we've got a two-sided war. The pirates on one side and our own software on the other.”
“They are working on it. We can't do anything about it, so we need to focus on our mission,” Moira stated flatly. The others in the room nodded dutifully. “Good.”
“Ma'am …,” Jethro frowned, ears back. He'd just gotten a request for more information from a JAG officer.
“I'm getting it too, Gunny,” Moira stated. She sighed. “Well, we need time to digest the intel and get our people equipped. I guess we just had another complication.”
“Ma'am?” Lieutenant Chaing asked cautiously.
“It's not about me. Apparently a JAG officer is looking into the Nelson attack. I wasn't involved obviously, but the gunny here played a starring role,” she said, indicating the panther. “So, he is going to be distracted for a bit answering questions.”
“Lovely,” Jethro muttered darkly.
“Heh. Count your blessings it's not reporters,” Tyler teased. Jethro rolled his eyes.
“I need to go over the latest intel dump here. Gunny, get that report squared away so we can get to work,” Moira ordered.
“Aye aye, ma'am. I'll do my best.”
“Good.”
<(>~^~<(>
Jethro was questioned briefly over the long range ink by a harried JAG officer assigned to TF 22. The ensign was young and somewhat inexperienced so he tried to be patient with his questions. It all centered around the events on the Nelson and his view of the attack. He gave a dry report, and had Bast compress and send his report as well as his recordings. The officer replied a few hours later that he'd pass that on to Intelligence and they'd talk again later.
“Great. So, it's not over.”
Bast flicked her ears at him. They both knew paperwork never ended. He snorted softly at his thought train. “Well, I'm not going to sit around on my hands waiting for him to get back to me. We've got work to do,” he said. Bast nodded.
“Then let's get to it. Maybe we can get so busy they can't find us.”
Bast merely rolled his eyes at him. He snorted again. “Hey, wishful thinking I know, but a guy can dream, right?” Bast just shook her head mournfully at him but she did flick her ears. He sniffed and then went back to work.
<(>~^~<(>
Moira went over intel dump as they made their way to the planet and the waiting ships in orbit. She was gratif
ied that someone had thrown together a cluster of improvised space station warehouses to house all the equipment. She wasn't sure about their condition, but she did have a partial inventory thanks to the ever helpful flag lieutenant.
The Marines and Navy had drones of various sizes as well as some satellites to help keep an eye on the battlefields. But the enemy had come up with their own version. The civilian dirigibles were being used for surveillance, bombing, snipping from on high as well as for moving troops. The airships were vulnerable to the winds and to ships in orbit. The problem was they couldn't pick out the sheep from the wolves. There were thousands of the floating blimps, all of various sizes. They had been originally used by the natives to move cargo and people around the planet, and they hadn't stopped even during the occupation.
Both the pirates and Federation forces had instituted a standing order for all dirigibles to register with them and a ban on the air space above and around their facilities or troops. Sometimes it held, sometimes not at all. Unfortunately, the ships couldn't tell if someone was suffering a navigational malfunction or equipment issue from orbit or the ground. The pirates had gotten rather good at faking both to get an airship in. Once they attacked they became a target however, so sometimes they were just ruses to confuse the issue and test the Federation's resolve.
Moira grimaced. They were squeamish about civilian casualties, and for good reason. They were on the planet as a liberation force, not to occupy it or threaten its population. That meant they had to be on good terms with the survivors, not shoot them down. She rubbed an ear, she'd have to think of something to fix the problem. Air support definitely. Inspections possibly? She frowned thoughtfully and flicked her tail.
The dirigibles used hydrogen from the hydrogen manufacturing facility on the coast near the spaceport to stay aloft, a simple but effective way to function, far cheaper and easier than trying to support antigrav air vessels. The natives had adapted the facilities for their own purpose but since Protodon was a crossroad star system they still sold hydrogen and other materials to ships that passed through their star system.
To keep using the hydrogen facility they had to keep it working and powered. The facility was powered by hydroelectric dams, solar farms, and a series of wind farms in the mountains nearby. That meant they had a healthy work ethic, hands-on attitude, and a rudimentary educational system. The industry was iron and steam age tech with some electric add-ons. She'd seen some of the steamer punk tech style and designs on other worlds, but many had been actors playing a role for tourists. These people were the real deal.
According to their updated intel on the planet, there were several crashed ships and shuttles on the main continent. They were covered over by forest growth, so they were hard to see sometimes. Apparently they had been used as bases by the guerrillas and now by the Horathians. Going in to root them out was difficult.
The same could be said for the small logging towns and underground mines pocketing the planet's surface. They not only had to get the Horathians, but also those who supported them. She didn't like the idea of a witch hunt, but she had no choice.
The guerrillas were unorganized as was the planetary government. They paid lip service to the Federation forces, but the pathetic Marines hadn't helped their image any. Until they got a handle on the situation, they wouldn't respect the Marines Moira thought.
There were a couple bits of good news; a group of civilians had apparently gotten their hands on an old Marine attack craft. Lieutenant Ebenser had tried to seize the craft and that had led to an armed standoff and retreat. The natives were cool to her now.
Moira shook her head. How they were supporting the craft was a mystery, but they were doing it. They were also near the capital since they needed fuel. Unless they had their own supply, but … she brushed the thought aside. She'd have to look into the situation when she had boots on the ground.
Another bit of good news was that two intelligence officers were on the ground. She had little from them though; they apparently only reported to their own chain of command. That was maddening.
The last bit of good news was that shortly before their own arrival, the Xavier had shepherded a convoy into the star system with Captain Lyon and two squads of Marine Recon on board. They were supposed to help out on the ground. They had been waiting on transport to get down to the surface, apparently the admiral refused to risk them in a landing.
She turned her attention to the Marines on the ground. The list of the survivors on the ground was depressingly small. Many were walking wounded, they couldn't be evaced or properly treated. The medics on the ships had their hands full trying to treat them remotely while dealing with their own duties.
They had three fire bases but Lieutenant Ebensher was the only officer left alive. Sergeant Snorkle was in charge of one of the firebases. She wasn't sure who was in charge of the other base since the duo was doing some sort of shuffling around to keep tabs on everything. And to keep the enemy guessing on where the leadership was.
According to the medic's report, Private Bailey was one of the enlisted who needed medical treatment for both minor injuries and possible mental health issues. She could imagine the reasoning, PTSD ghosts were ugly even with proper training. Being in a constant threat environment … she looked at the report. And they had militia volunteers in the base? So they had to worry about training them and keeping them alive too? Possibly even turncoats in their midst? According to the report of … Arkangel? She wrinkled her nose. “What kind of name is that?” she murmured.
“Ma'am?” Bast asked.
“Something up?” the captain asked, looking up from the tablet in her hand. She looked back down when she noticed Bast's avatar in a corner. “Well?”
“You asked a question. I was online.”
“Oh.”
“I'm accessing the military network. Arkangel is the codename of a deep operative sent here to work his way behind enemy lines, ma'am. He is one of the two intelligence officers that have come forward.”
“Oh.”
“He has had extensive cybernetic repair work done, ma'am. He is human.”
“Okay … a name?”
“Classified, ma'am. He is working with the militia group that have the attack craft however.”
“Great. At least he's got some assets. Can't they use the craft to suppress the anti-air elements?”
“I don't know, ma'am. It's not in the files.”
“Great. Find out. And offer our support. If we can't get them to sign up, at least remind them we have a common enemy.”
“Ma'am, standing policy is not to hand over weapons to civilians,” Bast reminded her. “Handing them ordinance would breach that order.”
“I'll talk with Admiral Irons once we're in orbit and can access the ansible without that damn time delay we've got now. And I need to report to Admiral White. It seems he's a bit put out that I'm here.”
“I wouldn't say that, ma'am. But he did sound surprised and distracted.”
“That too. I honestly think this was his plan. He went off halfcocked, and Admiral Irons is letting him for some reason.”
“Possibly, ma'am.”
“And I don't like it. Both of them are playing games with lives. Marine lives. We're not pieces on a chess board to be thrown away.”
“Definitely not, ma'am,” Bast replied. She calculated that the conversation with Admiral Irons would be interesting … if the Neowolf could get an audience. She might have to report to her own chain of command first … which could also get interesting. But first up was Rear Admiral White.
<(>~^~<(>
When their ships reached orbit, Captain White Wolf boarded a shuttle and went to the flagship. Yris'ka'th was a nice ship, a newly-built Arboth class destroyer. Moira made her way through the ship to the officer's wardroom. She had to cool her heels for a bit while Lieutenant C'lax made his report to the Admiral. When the Veraxin exited the room he bobbed a nod to her. “You may go right in, Major,” he said.
She blinked then remembered the tradition of not calling a visiting Captain, Marine, or Navy by their rank. They were given a courtesy promotion for the duration of their time on board.
When she entered she instantly recognized the rear admiral from Bast's intel brief. She came to attention and saluted. “Sir, Captain SG White Wolf reporting.”
“Captain, no offense but what are you doing here? Don't they need you in Kathy's World?” Admiral White asked as he returned her salute. She was a white wolf, quite beautiful but aged, terribly aged. He felt for her; he'd read up on her story.
“I thought we should have a heart to heart, sir. And like any Marine I can't resist the call to arms,” the Neowolf replied after they had exchanged salutes.
Her place in the convoy had surprised Amadeus. He hadn't known she had been there until Jojo had alerted him that her shuttle was on the way over. He wasn't happy about how frail she was but was glad to see her. She had immediately taken charge of the Marine forces on the ground as senior officer. “I have a general idea of what the admiralty wants done, bust the Horathians. Getting it done with the forces currently in the system will be tricky,” the wolf said.
She was to relieve Lieutenant Ebensher. From the sound of it, the human woman was grateful for the support. She didn't sound at all miffed about handing over the job unfinished to a bunch of half-trained Neos.
“I know. We've been having all we can do to keep the three firebases,” the admiral said, shaking his head. “I know you want command Major but ….”