Scouts Out 3_War

by Danny Loomis

  “Why are you just now telling me?” Victor asked, cocking his head.

  “Because if we did need to use them, I didn’t want even you to know it was anything other than an accident.” He shook his head. “Moving on, though, I’m glad you’re here. We just got word the Confederation has attacked the first star system we invaded. It seems their forces are larger than anticipated.”

  “Are you going to ask the Council to send more ships?”

  “I’m meeting with the Admiralty in a few minutes. We’re going to discuss that very thing.”

  “I understand. If we were to replace Admiral Haven now, it could get somewhat ticklish.”

  “Especially since he’s sweet talked the Legislaturists on Eire into supplying naval personnel for the ships that’ll soon be coming out of the four shipyards we’ve built there.”

  “That’s fast work,” Victor said, eyebrows raised.

  “Had to rob personnel and equipment from several other projects, but it’ll pay huge dividends if we’re successful getting those yards into production.” He stood. “By the way, I had to send Haven a note that the spies weren’t my doing, and I’d reprimanded you for daring to mistrust him.” He smiled. “So consider yourself reprimanded and let’s go meet with the Admiralty. Need to review our latest strategy, and see if it’s still working like it has been.”

  He checked the time. “But first let’s stop at the Economics Commissioner’s office. Need to ask her a few questions before we meet with the Admiralty.”

  When they entered the Commissioner’s office, she stood and moved towards Karl, a large smile on her face. “Good morning, First Speaker.” Victor chuckled when the two embraced and kissed. He’d been best man at their wedding last month. Katrina had been the finest thing to happen for Karl since his first wife died three years ago.

  Victor was still smiling when they sat around the conference table in her office. “I notice the First Speaker tends to spend an inordinate amount of time in this office lately.”

  “Ignore him, dear,” Karl said with a chuckle. “He’s just jealous. And I did have a reason to stop in. We’re visiting with the Admiralty to discuss how the war is proceeding. Thought I’d better get an update from you before that meeting.”

  Katrina nodded. “I’m glad you did. The latest economic figures are in, and for the short term they look good, with robust growth due to war material production that all planets are taking part in. This helps their overall economies, especially since you took my suggestion to reduce taxes by ten percent.”

  “I strenuously objected at the time,” Victor said with a shrug. “But you were right. We’re already seeing an increase in our treasury. I’m not sure how that works, but you’re the expert, Katrina.”

  She laughed. “And don’t you forget it. However, I do want to stress this is only a short-term fix. Not sure what’ll happen once the war ends.”

  Karl lifted an eyebrow. “What would the inclusion of up to seventy-eight star systems do for the economy?”

  She sat back, a thoughtful look on her face. “At first I suspect it would be a disaster, if all of them were suffering major damage due to the war. But for long term effects? The faster they are able to recover the better. It would definitely invigorate us, even with the Earth Federation boycott.”

  Karl nodded, a pleased look on his face. “Good. That’s what I’ll make sure the Admiralty knows–try and preserve the infrastructure on planets we have to physically invade.”

  It was another 15 minutes before Victor was able to get Karl headed towards the meeting with the Admiralty. They might not agree on everything all the time, but it was nice to have your leader show his human side. He sobered, thoughts turning back to the Grand Admiral. Better make plans of his own about that difficulty. Karl might forgive his son-in-law once too often.

  ALAMO AIRFIELD, FLIGHT TRAINING FACILITY (Day -78)

  Week seven started with a crash, at least for Irish. He was finishing a final target run for the day when his simulator emitted a high-pitched buzzing and filled with smoke. Seconds later he’d clawed his way out of what felt, at the moment, like a tomb. Two enlisted personnel ran up, fire extinguishers in hand and began spraying the inside of his simulator.

  “All personnel outside,” called McIntyre in a loud voice. “Assemble on your training officer north of this building.” Irish hurried to the exit which was rapidly filling with other cadets bent on the same mission. Well, hell. This wasn’t his fault, was it? He shook his head and proceeded outside.

  Jankowski ensured all of her flock was present before smiling. “I think we can safely say we’re done with simulator training for the day. Cadet number thirty, I noticed it was your simulator that started smoking. Any idea why?”

  He shook his head. “No, Sir. Everything was normal till the power meter spiked just before it started smoking and buzzing.”

  Number 29, a thin dark-faced man from South Continent smiled. “I think number thirty wore his horse out. Seems like you’re in there all the time. How many hours’ve you got in that thing?”

  His face heated. “Uh, last night it showed two hundred.”

  Astonished silence met his statement. “Two hundred…Man, you must live in that thing,” number 28 blurted.

  Number 26 shook her head, chuckling. “And that’s not counting all the hours he spends in another one on the other side of the base.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “How’d you know that?”

  She laughed outright. “Because I got curious and followed you ‘bout four weeks back, and started doing it myself.” She gestured at the others. “When I told the rest of the team they started doing it, too. I didn’t tell ‘em it was you that started the whole thing.”

  For the first time since he’d learned about Brita, he smiled. “Number twenty-six, you’re a sneaky one. Glad you’re on my team.”

  “Which brings up a point.” Jankowski stepped inside the circle that had formed. “All of you are going to have to start depending on one another more than you have. The next eleven weeks are aimed not only towards individual skills, but on how you perform as a team.” She strode away, heading for HQ.

  Number 27, the shortest in their group, stared after her a moment. “I got a question, number thirty. We all tend to stay together socially when we go do anything outside of class hours, but you’re never along. You some kind of hermit?”

  Irish blushed again. “No, not really. Just been preoccupied. Next time we have a break, I promise…”

  “Tonight,” 26 said. “We’re going to the Club when we get off. And before you say you can’t because you’re not an officer, it doesn’t matter. Cadets are treated as officers in there.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, tonight. But only if you let me buy the first round.”

  * * *

  Number 27 took a last swallow of beer. “This is about it for me, guys. How about you?”

  Irish and number 29 nodded. The other two had headed for the barracks minutes before, leaving the three of them at the bar. “Me too,” Ian said. “I think we actually got some serious homework coming our way tomorrow…” A figure lurched against him from behind, almost knocking him from the stool.

  “Hey, watch it, cadet!”

  He shook his head. They should’ve left with the other two. Oh, well…He turned to the large man behind him, glancing at his nametag as he did. “Waller, is that really you?” He stood, grabbing the surprised man’s hand. “Congratulations on the promotion, man. Last time I saw you we were Ensigns together.”

  The two men with Waller stepped back, surprise on their faces.

  “Huh?” Waller focused bloodshot eyes on his face. “What’cha mean, you know me? I’ve never seen you before.”

  By now his friends were on their feet, eyeing the two standing behind Waller. Irish smiled. “You’re right, I don’t. But I didn’t want you to do anything rash and get my buddy upset.” He indicated number 27, a full head shorter than Waller. “He just
finished getting his black belt in Dong Whee and was commenting he hasn’t had a chance to kill anyone today.”

  Waller shifted towards 27, menace in his stance. “So you think you’re some kinda hot shit…” Irish reached out, fingers pushing on a nerve just below where the jaw and neckline came together. A whimper escaped Waller when he collapsed, eyes unfocused.

  He quickly knelt down. “Hey, you okay man?” Waller managed to roll his eyes at him, obviously in pain and unable to speak.

  “I think he had some kind of attack, guys,” Irish said to Waller’s friends, who were pressing forward with concern written on their faces. “You want to get him back to his quarters, or maybe the hospital?”

  Minutes later he and his friends were strolling towards the taxi stand. 29 shook his head, dark-brown face creased in a smile. “Shoot, I don’t know what you did, but thanks. If we’d got in a brawl we would’a been kicked outta the program.”

  They were easing into a taxi when 27 spoke up. “What’s with this dong whee crap? I thought for sure you’d just sicced that guy on me.” He shuddered. “Haven’t been in a fight since I was in grade school.”

  Irish laughed. “I just made up a name to make him think you were some kind of expert in the martial arts. Needed a distraction while I got a chance to put him down without any fuss.”

  Number 29 cocked his head. “That’s another thing. All I saw was you patting him on the shoulder or something, and he was down.”

  He shrugged. “Years of training in hand-to-hand tactics. Wasn’t sure I could talk him out of leaving us alone, so took the second best course of action.” He checked his watch. “Hey, we better get back to the barracks. Lots to do in the morning.”

  Both his friends looked at each other, shaking their heads. 29 spoke up. “You’re right. But first chance we get, you need to fill us in. I’ve had my share of training in the Arts, along with everyone else in the class. Haven’t seen a move like that before.”

  Irish tried to smile, embarrassment moving in. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t your normal self-defense stuff. The main thing is we didn’t get in a brawl. And that’s the story we should stick to.”

  Reluctant nods were his answer. He faced front, masking the irritation he felt at himself. He’d automatically chosen physical action instead of defusing the situation verbally. What a butt-head. When was he going to learn to control his reflexes? The rest of the ride was in silence.

  * * *

  “You gonna provide us with fireworks again, thirty?” asked 27 while they clambered into their simulators. This time, all thirty cadets were gearing up.

  He smiled. “The only fireworks you’ll see is when you get blown up.” He settled in, closing the lid while powering up. He’d queried Snowflake after the circuits of his last “horse” had fried, and received a “not me” feeling back. He leaned back in thought. Was it getting easier to-communicate-with Snowflake? He shook his head. Probably just getting used to it.

  “Listen up,” came Jankowski’s voice through his headset. “Today, as advertised, we’re going to start combat scenarios. You’ll fight against the computer for the rest of today. Depending on your progress, tomorrow should see us doing one-on-one combat against each other. Your simulation will start in five seconds.”

  Irish flicked on his weapons suite, and prepped his particle beamers. He waited, finger poised. When the screen activated, he fired. A fireball bloomed 100 kilometers to his front even while he slewed left at five G’s acceleration. He kept his finger depressed, catching another Viper across its tail, sending it spinning away. Reversing his course at max G’s had his simulator vibrating. He flashed through the dissipating fireball he’d caused, firing two missiles at the corvette moving towards him. He had time to fire two shots from his blaster, both scoring on the ship’s bridge before everything turned white. A honking sound filled the inside of his simulator, signaling he’d been killed.

  A twist of a wrist popped the hatch, and he touched his chest in bemusement. Wow, that had been-stimulating. He looked around the building, noting that all thirty hatches were open on the simulators. Irish smiled in appreciation. As he’d thought, their first tactical exercise was an impossible one. He clambered out and headed towards his team which was forming up single file on Jankowski.

  “Team six, move out,” she called.

  Moments later they were all seated in their classroom, apprehension and disgust showing on everyone’s faces. Except his. He tried to keep a straight face and glanced around once more, then directed his attention at Jankowski.

  She eyed each of them, face a mask. “Now you’re going to discover something horrifying.” She gave a wicked smile. “We’ve started recording all missions you do in your simulators. From now on, after a set number of missions that you run against the computer or each other, we can sit in class and watch.” She sobered. “This isn’t just to embarrass you, it’s to learn from our mistakes.”

  The large screen in front of the class came to life. “Numbers twenty-seven and twenty-nine, you at least got a shot off before you were destroyed.” Four scenarios played out, each only a second in length. All ended in destruction.

  She touched a button, clearing the screen. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better to know you lasted the same length of time all other students in the class did.” She pointed at the screen. “Except one.”

  A fireball immediately formed, followed by streaking movement on the screen. Two seconds later, a larger fireball flared. “Anyone catch what happened?” she asked, smiling once more.

  Number 29 hesitantly raised his hand. “Um-was that the Viper exploding?”

  Jankowski nodded. “Correct. But what were those streaks, and the second explosion?” The class was silent.

  She sat down, facing the screen. “I’m going to play it slow-motion now, and want to see if you recognize anything.” Once more, the Viper exploded. This time, in slower motion, a Wasp fled to the side. It raked another Viper with particle beamer fire, wounding it. The reversal of direction had everyone’s jaw dropping. It sped through the cloud of debris from the first Viper, loosing two missiles at a corvette just now showing on the screen. Two shots from the blaster impacted on the corvette’s bridge, even as the Wasp was caught in a wall of laser fire. It still managed to hold together long enough to spear into the side of the corvette, destroying both.

  “How many of you have read Captain Waring’s Tactics of Success, chapter five?”

  Irish’s hand was the only one that went up. “Chapter seven, Sir,” he said.

  She nodded. “And what does that chapter deal with?”

  He straightened, resisting the urge to look around. “How to make the most out of an impossible situation, Sir.”

  Jankowski stepped in front of him. “How did you know your first tactical situation would be a no-win?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I would’ve done, Sir. So I acted accordingly.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Good work, Irish-er, number thirty.” She turned to the rest of the class. “The text he mentioned isn’t on our suggested reading list, but for those of you wishing to delve into more advanced tactics than we will show you during your training here, it is available under ‘post library’ in your readers.” She headed for the door. “We’re due back in our simulators, everyone. The rest of the day will be spent working tactics against the computer, then against each other starting tomorrow. Move out.”

  * * *

  Irish dove his Wasp under the Dreadnought he’d just exited, and headed full speed for a large grouping of asteroids thirty seconds to his front. While doing so, he flipped the switch that activated his cloaking generator. The first day of fighting ship against ship, or in this case simulator against simulator, was starting off with a bang. All thirty ships were against each other in a massive free-for-all. His rear view already showed five Wasps becoming fireballs.

  By now he’d reached the vicinity of the asteroids, and attached himself to a rock that w
as ten times the size of his Wasp. Being in stealth mode would make him all but impossible to detect. He was amazed when no one else opted for stealth. All had gone with the shield generator. Since Wasps could only fit one or the other in the limited space available, you had to make a choice. Time would tell if he’d made the right move. He settled down and watched while the remaining ships fought.

  In less than three minutes only two ships were still flying. They’d teamed up at the first, overpowering ship after ship with their tactics. Both ships were now squared off, cautiously circling each other, looking for an opening. Time to move thought Irish, lifting off the asteroid.

  He’d closed to particle beamer range when both Wasps in front of him exploded, bringing a smile to his face. Hot damn, that’d been easy. His simulator shut down and its lid lifted.

  “Number thirty is the winner,” declared the emotionless voice of the computer. “Please exit your simulators.”

  Once back in their small classroom a babble of conversation filled it until Jankowski walked in. “Settle down,” she said, striding to the front. “Not bad, but not super. None of you were the first ones killed, and three lasted until the final eight.” She flicked a switch on her desk, bringing up a display of all 30 ships being launched simultaneously.

  “The only rule for the free-for-all was to wait ten seconds before attacking. One hot-dog in Team three attacked at the eight second mark, and was the first one destroyed. Now watch how the rest of you fared. I’ve highlighted your numbers so you can get an idea of how you did compared to those around you.”

  For the next minute there were cheers or groans, depending on how each cadet had done. Suddenly the screen blanked, and Jankowski scowled at them. “Damnit, watch the entire battle. Yes, watch how you did, but learn how to also be aware of what’s going on around you. It will save your life someday.” She hit the switch again.