by Chris Hechtl
“Major …,” she sniffed and then seemed to smile slightly. Some amusement glittered in her ancient eyes. “Ah, I had forgotten the courtesy promotion while on board a ship.” She flicked her ears. “I'm not stupid enough to go groundside, sir. I know my limits,” she murmured. Something about that statement made the admiral doubt that however. “Besides, if I did go groundside, that would put a lot of Marines in danger since they would have to protect my carcass and not be doing their jobs. I'll mind the store from orbit through the drones, sir, at least until the beachhead is expanded on,” she said.
“Good. But part of the mission is diplomacy. The locals are not happy about our rate of progress,” the Neochimp grimaced.
“Or lack thereof?” White Wolf asked, again flicking her ears at his grudging nod. “We'll see if my name will wake some of the survivors up. We'll build off that and go from there, sir.”
“Good. Get on it then, Major,” he said. “If you need Navy support, let my flag lieutenant or the captain know,” he stated.
“Aye aye, sir,” she replied smoothly. She left after a moment.
He watched her go and then shook his head. Her convoy had brought in two additional precious things: a small class one industrial replicator and a small fusion reactor. He was surprised that the captain hadn't kept both in her system. Then he shook his head. No, she was a Marine, one from his time. She knew where they were most needed.
Well, he would indeed use them. Some of his engineers had been trying to fabricate some sort of space station expansion project. A simple thing, but they had lacked support. Now he could give them a little. And the fusion reactor would go a long way to solve their power problem. It wouldn't be a lot of power, but something was definitely better than nothing.
Since he didn't have any space support and the planet's space port was still contested, Amadeus had to keep the two transports in orbit of the planet. The escorts he gratefully folded into his own force. The frigate and corvette each had minor damage that had yet to be repaired. He turned TF 22's collective engineers and the parts they had onto the problem with strict orders to get the ships squared away before they worked on their side project.
He was surprised by the engineers, Ensign Lovejoy especially. The chief engineer was a piece of work. He shouldn't be so surprised he thought; they were all students and admirers of Admiral Irons. But to see them actively working on side projects?
Projects to help them in the long run? On their own initiative? Of course they didn't have much red tape … and they were making a lot of additional work for themselves. But these people didn't coast for long; they kept moving forward. Apparently the past seven centuries of apathy was at an end. Admiral Irons and to some extension his own arrival in the time period had knocked something loose. He was glad. Glad to see them wanting to rebuild and glad to help in some small way. He made a notation to say something nice in their evaluation reports and to make sure any early promotions went through without a hitch.
He just hoped the pirates didn't show up to destroy all their hard work.
<(>~^~<(>
Captain White Wolf contacted Captain Lyon aboard Xavier. “We've got to get some things straight right off, Captain,” she said. “Like who's in charge,” she said pointedly.
“I was just promoted to senior grade, ma'am,” Captain Lyon stated cautiously.
“Then I have you by date of rank,” the wolf said over the video link. Admiral Irons had promoted her to captain senior grade when he'd passed through the star system on his march to Antigua.
He put his hands up. “I'm not arguing, ma'am. You have the command. Besides, I'm a special ops guy. Line command is for the birds. Too much paperwork for my tastes.”
Moira nodded once. “Good, I'm glad we've got that established.”
“Far be it from me to play dominance games with an alpha wolf, ma'am,” the Recon captain stated with a slight trace of amusement in his voice. The wolf flicked her ears at him. “We're both senior grade captains so we can get along. The enemy is down there,” he stated, pointing to the blue marble in the wall screen.
Moira flicked her ears and nodded. “I'm glad you agree.”
“Besides, ma'am, I'm Recon. I'm not sure how to exercise command of an op this big. I've been in on them, but I'm not that experienced with the staff side. The logistics and all that.”
“That takes time, experience, and yes, training. And sim time too I suppose, but gaming out something like this can take weeks.”
“Which you obviously have done, ma'am.”
“Yes. Yes I have. But I admit I didn't have much of a staff—almost none at all,” she said, cocking her head slightly to indicate Bast on her HUD. “But what staff I did get my hands on did a good job.”
“Yes, ma'am. And I have none at all. My troops will support you, ma'am.”
“Good.”
“We need to get down there. Get in there, map them out, and then roll them up. But I understand we're still outnumbered and outgunned,” Captain Lyon stated with a grimace.
“By forty to one if the numbers can be believed. I'm betting the enemy Brigade isn't that big. There is some overlap and some local partisan support obviously. But teasing it out is a problem,” Moira said. She'd gotten word that between the militia groups and the Horathians all the weapons had been confiscated or disappeared. Even the cops were armed with just truncheons or improvised weapons.
The Horathians had done it as part of their program to suppress any sort of armed insurrection as they gained control of the planet. And the additional weapons and gear supplemented their own equipment. According to Arkangel's report, the enemy had planned the attack deeply, going so far as to have embedded spies to map the planet and form cells to help the Horathians. Untangling it all would be ugly.
“ …Which is why we're not going in halfcocked. I'm not going to waste our troops or equipment. We can eventually replace the equipment, but I'd rather not have to replace the troops.”
“Agreed, ma'am. Not unless we have to,” Joshua replied. They nodded in mutual accord. They both knew that troops were there to be used. They had to be husbanded yes, but they eventually had to take risks with them to achieve their mission objectives, and yes, some would be hurt or die in the process. The enemy wanted to live and to kill them just as badly as anyone else.
“We've got to get you to the ground. I've got an idea on how to effect that, but it is going to take some coordinating and a bit of Lady Luck's blessing.” She shook her head. She'd originally planned to land within two days of their arrival in orbit. That changed when she got a better feel for the situation … and when she checked the date. She wasn't very superstitious but even she wasn't dumb enough to court disaster by performing a landing on a Friday the 13th!
“Ma'am?”
“I'm not sure if my idea will work or not. I need to talk to … well, Gunny McClintock I suppose,” she said, cutting off the mention of Bast.
“I'd like to meet him, ma'am.”
“Oh?”
Captain Lyon nodded. “The gunny is one of the reasons I'm here, ma'am.”
“Oh?”
“It's not just to get into the thick of things. Well, that's one reason I suppose,” the human said with a tight half smile. The wolf flicked her ears at him. He nodded slightly. “It’s him. I missed him on Agnosta, ma'am. I've heard good things about him.”
“Oh? A fan?”
“Of a sort, ma'am. I looked him up from the intel brief Commander Sprite gave to us on the ride to Agnosta. It seems I knew his ancestor Tobias.”
The light dawned in the wolf's eyes. “Ah. I see.” She nodded in understanding.
“Yes, ma'am. I owe that cat, ma'am. So, anything I can do to … sort of keep an eye on his kids I'll try to do.”
“Repentance for past mischief, Captain?”
The human snorted then shrugged. “And a long beer tab.”
That got an amused chuckle from the wolf.
<(>~^~<(>
Captain White Wo
lf had taken some of the trainers, engineers, and recruiters in at Kathy's World, which had freed up some of the space in the convoy for herself and some of her militia volunteers. They had also stuffed each ship to the gills with volunteers. Everyone was eager to get off the smelly ships, even if it was into the middle of a war zone.
She had assembled two platoons of mixed troops with veteran Marines like Sergeant McClintock to lead them. They had trained the troops enroute using virtual reality goggles due to the lack of space. It wasn't enough and everyone knew that.
To supplement them they had Captain Lyon's three Recon squads and hundreds of tons of gear waiting in orbit. Until they could secure the spaceport properly, the Navy wasn't about to risk one of their shuttles again, not after losing so many.
Captain White Wolf refused to be rushed as she assessed the situation on the ground. She detailed drones to survey areas and used her knowledge of her recent guerrilla war on Kathy's World to ferret out a few possible Horathian locations. She was careful to leave them alone. They might be traps, but that could work for her people if she played her cards right.
Her delay and her blunt daily reports to Colonel Forth and Admiral Irons led to the two senior officers to hold a private ansible consultation. The colonel called in over the ansible network. “We don't ordinarily do this, Captain, excuse me, Major, but we're going to do it anyway.”
“Sir?”
“I'm uploading the codes now. Admiral Irons has signed off on it, and Admiral White shouldn't have any problems. Your courtesy frocking is no longer just a formality ‘Major.’ You are hereby promoted to the rank of Major. You are in command of the invasion force as senior officer on site.”
“Sir,” she said startled.
“Hang back some more if you wish. You have my authorization to borrow from the Marines from the ship's companies,” he stated. He sent her his authorization. “Admiral White may not be pleased about that. But he knows we need to get the ground under control.”
“Yes sir.” The wolf's ears were flat back. She had never thought she'd make captain's rank let alone Major. She shook her head numbly. They must be more desperate for help than she thought.
“There are two sleeper noncoms, and Captain SG Lyon on Xavier. All three have been recently promoted. Use them wisely. Like you they are a finite wealth of knowledge and skill.”
“Aye aye, sir. They are already here, sir.”
“Good. I see your plan is to attrition the enemy since they have superior numbers and can hold the population hostage—to turn their own tactics against them. Approved. The frontal approach isn't working. A grid pattern search will take too much manpower.”
“Yes, sir. This Baroness General Busche is good, sir. She's got her people distributed in small squads in the bush and in the cities and towns. The ones in the cities and towns are holding hostages and have quislings around them for cover and support. They have only a battalion of Horathians but forty times that in quisling partisans. Ferreting them out is going to be rough.”
“And you most likely won't get them all with the forces you've got available. Once they start taking heavy losses, they'll go to ground.”
“Yes, sir. The biggest thing is to push them back away from the spaceport and then keep them back. Once we can assure our supply, we can move people and equipment in and out safely. But the capital is my keystone objective.”
“Get on that then. You have Gunny McClintock. I suggest you use him, his A.I., and his armor wisely. He won't be with you for long.”
She nodded sagely. That she fully understood, though she wondered what other front they would shift the panther too.
“We're sending in additional SEAL, Recon, and a Marine battalion in as soon as we have additional shipping. They are prepping now. However, the Major in charge.”
White Wolf nodded. “Has me by date of rank, sir. I understand. Hopefully I won't leave them as big a mess to clean up as there is now.”
“I'm glad you understand. Good hunting, Major,” the colonel stated.
“Thank you, sir. May Lady Luck's grace shine upon you,” she stated as he disconnected the channel.
Chapter 25
Agnosta was indeed planning on sending in a SEAL and Recon team as well as the Marine Battalion commanded by Major Pendeckle, Jersey mused as he clicked the ansible disconnect. He sat back in his chair. That was a problem, they had Damocles and Bounty waiting but the transport large enough to move the group wasn't there. Admiral White was hanging onto every piece of shipping he got so that was putting a crimp in their careful schedules.
Pendeckle was taking charge of 1st Battalion, 2nd Brigade, to be in on the ground first instead of waiting for the bulk of his brigade to move. He was fairly confident that first battalion would be enough to take the planet, but Jersey wasn't so sure, not after some of the reports he had read. And until his convoy got back to pick up 2nd Battalion they would have to keep it together. At least they had some shorter logistic lines to Antigua … if they got the shipping they needed. So far the Navy was hogging all the manufacturing and shipping resources, Jersey thought sourly.
Until the shipping issue was resolved, he had to keep them to training and preparations, which was fine. The 2nd was a good brigade; they could continue to train their own people while also training the other brigades that were starting to stand up.
He frowned thoughtfully. He could send in the SEALS and Recon teams in dribs and drabs, or even on the destroyers. It wouldn't be the first time a Special Forces team had hot bunked or even racked out in an armory or boat bay. He played with his lip and then jotted a note out to explore that later if things didn't pick up soon.
What really bothered him was what a lot of the senior officers were expressing. The sleepers and … he exhaled noisily. There I go again, thinking in camps. They may be from a different generation but they are Marines! He thought, shaking his head.
Everyone was concerned about the lack of rank and field experience. He knew that. Hell, the Major did too. He wished Valenko was available but the bear was neck deep handling the Marines in Pyrax. There was no time to recall him from Pyrax and then work him up to handle the battalion. The shock and adjustment would be a problem, and so would the politics involved. He had no real reason to relieve Pendeckle for the job. The man was looking forward to the mission even though he could only take one of his three battalions with him. He had Captain Myers and others to back him up in Antigua … he shook his head. No, everyone would do their jobs where they were. Once he got them there, he thought sourly.
What they needed though wasn't just ground troops to go door to door. They needed support. They needed vehicles, mechs, drones, shuttles, and assault shuttles. Assault craft. Marine craft. He made another note to discuss that lack with Admiral Irons in their next scheduled conference. It was time for the corps to grow and branch out properly, not be stifled as it had been.
Apparently, despite his little slip of the tongue with Nara, he had been enough in the admiral's good graces to earn a promotion to full bird colonel. He wasn't sure what to make of it. On the one hand, it was inevitable. On the other though … the bigger the corps got the more unwieldy it seemed. Technically he should be a general, and Pendeckle and the other brigade commanders, lieutenant colonels at a minimum. He frowned, picking at his lip then shrugged such considerations off.
He had a bit over nineteen thousand troops on the planet, but the number was a bit deceiving. Nine thousand troops were in the three brigades, with another thousand already earmarked for fourth brigade. There were three thousand personnel in supporting roles. Another thousand troops were split almost evenly between the Recon and Raiders specialists. Two thousand seven hundred personnel were reservists, and another two thousand were in various stages of training. Three hundred people were earmarked for flight roles in the Marine's first aviation battalion while serving in other roles … if the admiral would ever get them the hardware they needed to get it out of the limbo of planning and simulation stages it had be
en stuck in for years. Four hundred people had signed on or completed training for supporting roles to the aviation wing as well. Another two hundred odd personnel were in various minor specialist roles like ordinance disposal or intelligence.
He kept loosing people to the various posting too. He had thousands of personnel abroad, the majority were in Pyrax and Antigua. Antigua had over twenty-five hundred Marines to date, all run by Captain Myers. But again, most were support personnel, not shooters.
He had way too many support personnel in his opinion. And definitely not enough personnel or hardware for the air arm. That was looking increasingly important. He frowned, then typed out another memo to Commander Sprite and Admiral Irons underlining the basic need.
<(>~^~<(>
Major Pendeckle was in a spectacular mood as he worked on his preparations. He knew Captain SG R'nz wasn't thrilled about losing her battalion command. That was tough. First Battalion of Second Brigade had been slated for Protodon and he intended to ride in with them. To that end he'd taken personal control of First Battalion while also overseeing his brigade staff. Some called it micromanaging, a no-no.
Captain SG R'nz was one of those people. She had just been promoted to SG, and he had been quite happy about getting her. She'd put in for a transfer when he'd taken over the preparations for movement. In a way he couldn't blame her, but he wished she'd had a trifle more patience with the situation. It wasn't like he intended to keep her command, just … borrow it until the rest of the brigade caught up with them. Besides, he was the brigade commander; he could do what he wanted with the battalion. Technically it belonged to him first, not her.
He knew his not quite intent to replace her wasn't sitting well with Jersey or some of the other senior officers. He had heard they were counseling her to be patient behind closed doors, but she had a temper. She wasn't having any of it. Again, tough. He wanted, no needed, to get his ticket punched. To prove he was more than a paper pushing pansy. Damn it, he'd earned the right; he'd been an officer before she'd signed on! He needed it if he was ever going to exercise higher command, and he needed it on paper to deal with the political equation he could see coming down the road.