No Plan Survives

by L. D. Robinson

  “Wait a minute,” Mehta said, “isn’t personnel that way?”

  He laughed briefly, a quiet chuckling under his breath. “This decision is evidently so unusual that we have to go visit the chairman.”

  Oh, crap. “The chairman?”

  “You got it.” He grinned. “But let me fill you in on what else has happened while you were holed up in debriefing.”

  They stopped at an elevator and Freeman pressed the “up” button.

  “Have they arranged a ticker tape parade for me?” Mehta said with a wink.

  Freeman frowned. “That’s all you want?”

  “Hell, no.” The elevator doors opened, and she stepped in. Freeman waved an access card at the controls, then selected the top floor. “I want another command,” Mehta continued. “Is my old brigade still available?”

  “They got someone from the alternate list to take command.”

  Damn. “Then I’ll take command of one of the ships in the Fleet of the Protectorate.”

  “I’m sure they would think you’re qualified,” Freeman said.

  “So, what about Davis, Ramirez, and Hiranaka?”

  The elevator door opened and they both stepped off. Freeman pointed down a hallway.

  “Hiranaka is going back into space,” Freeman said as he started walking. “I’m not sure if they’ve worked out what her exact assignment will be. Then there’s Ramirez. He’s retiring from the Army, and he’s going to be a deputy something-or-other in a new intelligence agency they’re forming—the Interstellar Intelligence Agency.”

  “Sort of like the CIA, but for space?”

  “Yup. All civilians. It’s terrifying.”

  Mehta gave him a sharp look. “Why terrifying?”

  “My daughter keeps talking about going into the spy business. Wants to keep up the ‘family tradition.’ But she has to be out of her mind.”

  “You think women can’t be good spies?”

  “I just don’t want my daughter to be a spy. It’s a dangerous business.”

  “Right.”

  They reached a double door, and Freeman opened it. Inside was a small conference room. The walls had a chair rail around the entire room, with white paint above the rail, and wainscoting below. A ten-foot dark wood table with a mirror-like shine spanned the length of the room, and Freeman motioned for her to take one of the seats. She sat in the center.

  “You know,” Freeman said, “that’s where a President-elect sits when he comes here for a briefing.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “Is it against protocol for me to sit here?”

  “You’re fine,” he said, sitting beside her.

  “Okay, what about Davis? Is he okay?”

  “His recovery is coming along nicely. He got debriefed in his hospital room, and then he got a visit from Mr. Brown from the State Department. You remember him, right?”

  “Yeah. What did he want with Davis?”

  “They’ve asked him to retire and move to State. He’s going to be the Deputy Secretary for Space Relations.”

  “Whoa.”

  “And they’re talking about making it a cabinet-level post.”

  “Wow.”

  “So that just leaves you. And unlike for everyone else, I don’t know what the decision is.”

  “How about you?” Mehta said. “Still at Space Command?”

  His eyes rolled. “Man, you should see it. It’s gone from this tiny provisional command to a sprawling headquarters. We moved into a large building, we’ve got Mralan staff, including my boss, the G-2, and we’ve got several three-stars on their way in. One of those is supposed to take temporary command from Uboldi until the real commander gets selected.”

  “Sounds like it’s a mad-house.”

  He chuckled again. “That’s why I jumped on the chance to come and escort you here. Half the offices don’t have furniture yet, office supplies are so hard to come by they’re like gold, the operations center isn’t set up, and people are arriving faster than the personnel guys can process them. So, yeah. Total chaos.”

  “How’s Uboldi holding up?”

  “He desperately wants to have the command running smoothly before the new commander arrives, but I don’t think it’s possible. There are too many things happening too quickly. But he’s got his daily morning briefing going, and that kind of gives everyone the sense that things will eventually pull together.”

  They waited several more minutes, discussing the paintings on the walls, and then finally the door on the other side of the room opened, and three people walked in. The first was General Lundgren, the chairman. Following him were Mr. Brown, and Aahliss.

  Mehta and Freeman stood.

  Lundgren dropped into a chair and huffed. “Sit, sit,” he said. “We’re here to talk about your future.” Then he gave Brown a sharp look. “You already got Davis. I don’t want you pulling my only experienced space commander into State, too.”

  “I’m not here to recruit for my department,” Brown said. “I’m here because what we’re going to discuss is a matter of treaty. I’ll be representing our government in the matter.”

  “I don’t understand why we need such high-level decision makers,” Lundgren said. “We give her command of one of the ships in the fleet, and we’re done.”

  “Really?” Aahliss said. “I think she needs to be in a position where she can share her knowledge with all the fleet, not merely one ship.”

  “All right,” Lundgren said. “We can make her chief of staff of Space Command.”

  Mehta shifted in her seat. That wouldn’t be fun, trying to get such a huge command running smoothly, getting bogged down in all the administrative stuff, buried in the paperwork. And all that without having the authority to make any big decisions.

  Then she noticed Aahliss’s stony glare at the general. Maybe he should stop talking.

  “What did you have in mind?” Brown said to Aahliss.

  “We want Colonel Mehta to be the commander of the Fleet.”

  “What?” Lundgren said, leaning forward and toward Aahliss. “Are you crazy?”

  Aahliss leaned away from him, her expression contorted.

  “General, please,” Brown said, “control your emotions. If you continue like this, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the room.”

  Aahliss looked like she was about to wither away.

  “We can’t put her in charge,” Lundgren said. “There’s a three-star general on his way to the command. The only way to make her the commander would be to promote her to four stars. That’s just not possible.”

  “Why not?” Aahliss said.

  “It’s just… there are rules. And congress would have to approve it, and it would require wavers up the wazoo.”

  “Sounds like you could work it out.”

  “There are other officers with a lot more experience than her.”

  “She has more experience in Space,” Aahliss said.

  “But not in running that size organization.” He looked at Mehta. “What do you think?”

  She swallowed hard. She would have to tell the truth, because Aahliss would see through it if she lied. “The general’s right,” she said to Aahliss. “There’s a lot I still have to learn about working at that level.”

  Aahliss smiled. “Thank you for your honesty, but you are incorrect.” Then she turned to Brown. “Please explain to your general that your congress has already ratified our treaty.”

  Brown turned to Lundgren. “You got that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And,” Aahliss continued, “the treaty specifies that you get to choose from among the Mralan candidates for second in command of the fleet.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you made that choice, and we agreed to it, just as is stipulated in the treaty.”

  “I know,” Lundgren said. “But... but she doesn’t have the rank!”

  “Then promote her.”

  Lundgren shook his head and put his forehead into his hands. “You evide
ntly think everything is simple, but it’s not.”

  “It’s as complex as you make it.”

  “This is going to limit what we can do.”

  “I have confidence you will work through these problems,” she said with a smile. “And besides, I promised her a promotion.”

  Lundgren rolled his eyes. “This is not just a promotion. You’re talking about skipping over three ranks. This is the damned Star Trek re-boot!”

  Aahliss’ face puckered. Guess she didn’t like the profanity. “What trek are you talking about?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No, please, for my curiosity, explain the reference.”

  “It was an old movie,” he said. “The main character got a huge promotion at the end. Totally unjustified. There were other people who were in a better position to take that rank than him. Sulu. Scotty. Chekov, even.”

  “How big was this promotion?”

  “He skipped over five ranks. And at each of those ranks, you have lessons you learn so you can be successful at the next rank. And all those lessons take time.”

  “How many ranks is it acceptable to jump over?”

  Lundgren sighed. “Once you make general, there have been a few who’ve jumped over one. Alexander Haig did that, although there was a lot of complaining about it.”

  “Then can she jump over two ranks? Will that be enough?”

  He sighed. “Probably not by the end, but we can start there.”

  

  Major Hiranaka trembled with excitement as Admiral Mehta held up a small stack of papers. “These are your transfer orders,” the Admiral said. “You’re now officially part of the Space Force.”

  The Admiral placed the orders on the table to her side. Those were the least important of the things to be reviewed during this ceremony.

  “So, you’re no longer a major,” the admiral added. “You’re a lieutenant commander.”

  In front of them, a small group of people stood watching. Her father and mother were there, standing in the front row. Father looked stiff and wore a deep frown, brows pulled together, and mouth turned down. What was he thinking?

  Beside him, her mother beamed with pride. She had always been supportive. She was the person who had kept Wendy going, pursuing her dreams.

  Admiral Mehta nodded at the personnel officer standing nearby, and that officer read from a padded, green folder in his hands. “The Bronze Star Medal, with ‘V’ device, is awarded to Major Wendy Hiranaka for her unflinching courage and heroic actions during Earth’s confrontation with the Dakh Hhargash and…” The personnel officer continued reading, but Wendy could no longer process it. She heard words like “tactical knowledge and understanding,” and “in the finest traditions,” but all she could do was look at her father’s face. Had she seen a hint of a smile there? Now he was frowning harder than before, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  Admiral Mehta placed the medal on Wendy’s uniform, they shook hands, and a photographer took a picture with the Admiral handing Wendy the green folder. Then, the admiral motioned for Wendy’s father to step forward.

  They took a moment to get him in position, then gave him the insignia of rank. “I’ll do the hat,” the admiral said. Then she nodded again to the personnel officer.

  “Attention to orders,” the officer said. “The President of the United States has reposed special trust and confidence…”

  Again, the words died away into a drone as she looked at her father standing in front of her, his lower lip pressed out by his stern frown. He stood stiffly, having gone to the position of attention. Her mother, still standing a few feet away, had no military experience and didn’t know the position of attention, so she just smiled more broadly, her hands clasping her straw handbag in front of her.

  “… is therefore promoted to the rank of commander,” the personnel officer finished.

  Her father pinned on the rank, his face never changing. He gave her a perfunctory handshake, then took a step back.

  “Last thing,” Admiral Mehta said, handing her another small pile of papers. “These are your assignment orders.”

  Wendy took the papers and looked at them. “Species X ship 1,” she read, then noticed the words below it. “Executive officer?” That was too good to be true. She looked up at Admiral Mehta. “Wow.”

  “I know they usually put more senior commanders into that position, but you have more experience in space than any of the other candidates. Besides, I think you’ll do well.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “The ship is currently being remodeled,” the admiral said. “This business of no chairs was just not acceptable.”

  Wendy chuckled.

  “Once it’s finished its remake, we’ll christen it the Armstrong,” Admiral Mehta said. “We plan to name the first several ships after astronauts. The next one will be the Yang, after one of the Chinese ‘Taikonauts.’”

  Hiranaka nodded. “I’m glad I’ll be on the first one.”

  The admiral smiled. She was still as nice as ever, but also serious, and so Hiranaka knew to keep the discussion short.

  “When will I meet the captain?”

  “We haven’t selected anyone yet,” the admiral said, “but that should be soon. In the meantime, you’re in charge. You need to get together with personnel and start putting a crew together.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And good luck.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Hiranaka shook Admiral Mehta’s hand, and then the admiral left.

  A line formed, and everyone in the room shook her hand and gave her congratulations. She could hardly believe it. Her new insignia of rank felt a little heavy on her uniform, even though it weighed no more than the major’s insignia she had worn before. She had a lot to do, and there would be high expectations.

  But her father, the last in the line, still frowned.

  She kept up her smile, and then as he approached, she felt that smile, felt how genuine it was. She was happy. This was the life she had chosen. And no disapproval from her father could change that.

  A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. She didn’t have to prove anything to him anymore.

  Her mother reached her, grabbed Wendy’s hand in both of hers and said, “What amazing adventures you’ve had!”

  “Yes. And there are more to come!”

  “Just be careful.” Mother patted her on the cheek, then stepped aside.

  Father walked up to her, face more serious than ever. He clasped her hand in his.

  “Thank you for being here,” Wendy said to him.

  “No,” he said. “I must thank you.”

  “What?”

  “Today,” he said, “you have shown us what this career of yours means. Today, I can hold my head high, and say that you are my daughter.” His frown softened into a smile—a serious smile, to be sure, but still it was a smile. Then his hand squeezed around hers just a little more tightly. “You, my daughter, are a Samurai of the Stars.”

  

  Mehta stepped into the outer office, where her secretary sat at a desk.

  Major General Uboldi sat in a chair near the secretary’s desk. He stood. “May I have a minute of your time?”

  “Sure, come on into my office,” she said.

  “Um, ma’am?” her secretary said, “there’s someone waiting for you in your office.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s all right,” Uboldi said. “We can talk here.” Only a week ago, he had reluctantly turned over Space Command to her. After that, he’d gone to Washington to discuss funding with Congress, and this was his first day back. Soon, he expected to receive a new assignment, and Mehta figured he was about to tell her he’d stopped by the Pentagon and gotten himself some prestigious command.

  “Is this ‘good bye’?” she said.

  “I’d hate to leave you with such a mess,” he said. “It’s pandemonium out there.”

  She chuckl
ed. “You had a good cadre put together. That’s made a lot of difference. It may look chaotic, but it’s functioning.”

  “Well, thank you, ma’am,” he said.

  That struck her as odd. Only a few weeks earlier, she had been the underling.

  “Then what can I do for you?” she asked.

  “I’d like to take over the Space Force,” he said.

  She cocked her head. “You wouldn’t mind going from commander to chief of staff?”

  “There’s a lot to be done,” he said, “and you need a strong leader there.”

  Mehta looked toward the door to Aahliss’ office and saw her standing in the opening, frowning. “What do you think?” Mehta said.

  “Perhaps you can teach him how to calm his emotions,” she answered, brows raised.

  “I’ll take that as an approval. We’ll tell personnel to make sure Mralans assigned to the service organization aren’t overly sensitive.”

  Uboldi grinned. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, grabbing her hand and shaking it.

  “I’ll put in a call to Washington to request you,” Mehta said.

  “They’re just waiting for your approval. I already told them I was going to ask for the job.”

  She nodded and slapped him on the arm, partly as a gesture of camaraderie, and partly to get him to let go. “Great. Then you can get right to work. I’ll expect a briefing tomorrow on what you have planned.”

  “Damn!” he said with a laugh, “you run a tight ship.”

  “I need you to work on the funding streams,” she said. “Get yourself a strong G-8 and resource management staff. And look at intelligence platforms we can put out there as force multipliers.”

  “You got it,” he said as he left the room.

  Mehta looked toward her office. Who would her secretary have let in without her being there? She walked through the door, and someone stood up, hands clasped in front of his waist.

  Trel.

  “Hello,” she said. “How are you?”

  That was the best she could manage. He still aroused her, the glint in his eyes as attractive as the first time she had seen him. It would be difficult having him work here, seeing him occasionally in the halls or at a meeting, knowing they could never be together. Perhaps she should request he return to Mral or take a job on one of the ships.