by John Ringo
“So it really was you?” Glennis asked.
“Yes, but you were wise to be cautious,” Mike said.
“We’re all wise to be cautious,” Glennis said. “This situation is totally fucked. I can’t believe you’re just sitting at a table with Wesley.”
“I’m a big guy,” Mike said. “Very forgiving. And as soon as Thomas is gone, I intend to kick his ass.”
“I’ll hold his arms,” Glennis replied, chuckling. “But this is a really fucked up situation.”
“What’s the most fucked up about it is that I can’t, really, kick his ass,” Mike said. “Don’t tell me every guy on the moon was on your side.”
“No,” Glennis admitted, her eyes dark. “We got into some firefights. Guys who believe the chain of command was right, no matter what. Given the situation, those bug the shit out of me.”
“So you realize we’re not going to be able to take Fleet Strike apart like a chicken,” Mike said. “That we’re all going to have to play like one big jolly family.”
“And we can’t call open season on the Darhel,” Cally said, walking up. “Which pisses me off. Much as I occasionally enjoyed killing a human traitor, the real fun is killing Darhel. Mind if I join in?”
“Not a bit,” Mike said, nodding at his daughter. It bugged him that he still couldn’t put the remarkably pretty woman beside him in that mental pigeonhole. The last time he’d seen his daughter she was fourteen and looked completely different. Totally different given that this was a full body modification including face. “You see that, right?”
“The Darhel have their fingers in every pie,” Cally said, nodding. “We can’t take the galactic economy apart and fight a war for survival. But we also can’t let them fuck us like they did the last time. I doubt you know the half of it.”
“I don’t,” Mike said. “But I suspect the Himmit do and obviously the Darhel know all of it. One thing I picked up on Ackia was that they were in contact with the Posleen long before the invasion.”
“That’s a fun one,” Cally said, her eyes widening. “You sure?”
“Sure as hell,” Mike said. “I mean the Nor might have been lying to me but there wasn’t a reason I could tell. And they had what looked like really old pictures of the Posleen.”
“Then the Indowy know about it,” Cally said, angrily. “And they still didn’t tell us that bit. Damnit.”
“We’re going to have to get some cards on the table,” Mike said, nodding at her. “Including some stuff you have. Like that slab you were talking about. We’re going to need those. Anybody we can recover we’re going to have to do so. And those are, clearly, faster and less dangerous than the regen tanks.”
“Aelool may have something on that,” Cally said. “Last I heard, they were all lost when we snatched the Pragmatists out from under your nose. Destroyed, or so I was told. God knows I want access to one. I hate this fricking body.”
“The mentats are another subject,” Mike said, looking into the distance. “Okay, so the enemy has some sort of magic ability. Presumably, and it’s a major presumption but it had better be right, even if the mentats can’t or won’t use the same powers for offense, they can at least protect us from them. Maybe even shield against one of these wormhole attacks. But they’re not soldiers; they don’t understand the mind-set and the methods, how tactics drive strategy and vice versa. And integrating them into the command structure will be… interesting. They consider themselves… ”
“Different but not better,” Thomas projected. “Mind if I come over?”
“Since you were listening,” Mike said, looking over his shoulder. The mentat was on the other side of the room.
“I’ve been monitoring several of the conversations,” Thomas said. “Pardon me if you find this intrusive.”
“You have no idea,” Mike said. “For one thing, at some point you guys have to think about ‘what if one of us is captured.’ How much information you have matters. For that matter, if you can, apparently, do telepathy across interstellar distances, can the enemy read your mind over the same? If so, they can get every plan from you. Can they read ours? We’ve got a billion new problems created by this sohon thing and without the commanders fully comprehending its strengths and weaknesses, we’re not going to be able to make informed decisions. Which means battles and even wars lost. Can you come entirely clean on your abilities? I don’t want them, I just want to use them and know how much of a threat the enemy is. Capiche?”
“All interesting questions, some of which we have the answer to and some we don’t,” Thomas said as he joined the group. “We cannot ‘read minds.’ I’m unsure if the enemy can or not. If they can, we can learn the method. Technically, I suppose we could read minds if we’d ever explored that ability. We have not because it is an intrusion we do not choose to make. Perhaps we’re going to have to choose to do some things we would prefer not to.”
“Heh,” Mike said, grimacing. “That’s the motto of the soldier: We do things we really wish we didn’t have to. Welcome to the wonderful world of combat. You do what you have to to survive. So that your society will survive. If you’re not willing to fight for your society, then it’s going to perish when someone else doesn’t like it. Period fucking dot. You think the mentats can get their heads around that?”
“The humans, yes,” Thomas said. “But there are only seven of us at the highest level of sohon. Another hundred or so that may be of use in defense. However, there are nearly a thousand Indowy at our level. Those, too, can be used in defense. But.”
“Let me guess,” Cally said. “They’re also the most advanced at building things. So… No sohons building stuff, no… ?”
“No ACS,” Thomas said. “That is certain. Not of the same level. None of the most advanced grav weapons such as the ACS grav-rifles or the sort of cannons mounted on the moon and previously mounted in PDBs. None of the most advanced armored materials. And overall production slowed by a noticeable fraction.”
“That’s unacceptable,” Mike said. “And that’s one of the first things we’re going to have to get straight. Things are going to have to change.”
* * *
“I welcome you all once again,” Thomas said, nodding as everyone resumed their seats. “I cede the floor to Michael O’Neal.”
“Item the First,” Mike said, walking to the head of the table. “Tam, what the fuck did you think you were doing throwing me to the wolves?”
“It was that or lose Fleet Strike,” Tam said, shrugging. “Functionally, at least. Replacement of senior officers who were more… tractable to the Darhel. Fucked up as it was, we still weren’t as fucked up as the Fleet. If I had to sacrifice you, or me, to do that I was willing to do it. I had hoped that the story about you destroying your corps would keep a lid on things, muddy the waters enough that we wouldn’t have the reaction we did. Didn’t work.”
“So you just let the Darhel wipe out a corps?” Colonel Leblanc asked, her jaw working. “You fucking bastard!”
“I didn’t know about that until after it happened,” General Wesley said, looking at the far wall. “If I had been faced with that choice… Well, any Darhel making that suggestion would have been a blue splatter on the wall.”
“More or less what I figured was going on,” Mike said, nodding. “Once I had time to think about it. But you realize that you’re now so tainted you’re nearly useless, right?”
“I intend to submit my resignation,” the general said. “I’m hoping that I can reenlist as a private if given the opportunity. You may all think I lost every bit of honor I’ve got. Got that. Even agree with it. But I still want to fight.”
“Quit being a martyr,” Mike said. “We don’t have time for it. You’re staying right where you are.”
“And you make this decision?” the Tir asked, gritting his shark-like teeth.
“Yeah, Tir, I make this decision,” Mike said. “With the cock-up you’ve created that is pretty obvious. General Cordell has been spinning his wheel
s for years and with the current situation, he’s out. We both know it. There’s only one guy the troops are going to trust to watch their back and that’s me. Are we in agreement?”
“If the Tir is unable to agree to that statement he is more of a fool than he appears,” Aelool said, making the Indowy grimace that equated to laughter.
“It is agreed,” the Tir said, gritting his teeth again. “You are commander of Fleet Strike.”
“Bit more than that,” Mike said. “That’s going to be my title but not my total function. For the time being, Fleet Strike is going to be the tail that wags. I need forces that can fight and that’s my first job. But I also need a Fleet that can cover my back and support me on call every time, no fucking questions asked. Which is the dog I’m going to wag. One of them.”
“For now,” the Tir said.
“Bullshit,” Mike said. “Because now everyone knows that you’ve got your claws in the rest of the Strike officers. Only officers I recommend are going to be trusted. You created this mess, this is your penance for it: Mike O’Neal calling the shots. Get that through your pointed head. Your decision making days are over. These are ‘take order’ days. If you cannot grasp that, then I will formally request that Thomas lift the ‘no violence’ ban, wait until my daughter is done with you and request a replacement. Comments?”
“What is your point?” the Tir asked.
“During the Posleen War you guys fucked with us constantly,” Mike said. “I don’t know exactly why, I don’t really care. All I care about is that you don’t do it anymore. You need us like you’ve never needed us, even with the Posleen. The Posleen moved slow. These guys are moving like lightning. We don’t have time for fuck around. And we don’t have to take it anymore. Because the Himmit are going to make sure you’re playing square. Aren’t you, Rigas?”
“That is an acceptable task,” Rigas said. “One ability I will reveal is that the AID net is anything but closed to us. Every communication the Darhel have made, that they think secret, is known to us. And virtually every communication that is non-electronic. I am authorized to give you support in, as you said it, making them ‘play fair.’ ”
“Tell whoever your boss is ‘thanks,’ ” Mike said, nodding. “And you’re going to start playing to the Human’s tone, not the other way around. Because right now I don’t see us winning this thing. The only way we’re going to is if everyone gets behind the wheel and pushes. Crabs, Darhel, Indowy and Human.”
“We have… obligations,” the Darhel said, nervously. The revelations of the Himmit had clearly shaken him.
“Yeah, including to me personally,” Mike said. “Ones you’re not fulfilling. We’ll hold that one in abeyance, but it’s only temporary. I’m going to order an audit as soon as it seems feasible. Something about perpetually owing me GNP from multiple planets. That sort of shit has to stop. I don’t care how you do it, it has to stop. If you need somebody killed, see Cally. She’ll be happy to assist.”
“Starting with you,” Cally said, buffing her nails and not looking up.
“Tam, I take it you’ve already expunged that goat-fuck you called a court-martial,” Mike said.
“Can’t, actually,” the General said. “Colonel Leblanc is in posession of the relevant documents.”
“Brought them along,” Glennis said, smiling ferally.
“We’ll finish up the paperwork later,” Tam said. “Take it from this seat; the… loyalist faction considers you the only choice for commander of Fleet Strike.”
“Oh, it’s a hell of a lot more than that,” Mike said, looking over at Admiral Hartono, who was still sitting mute. “Fleet’s so fucked up we might as well scrap it. We’re going to be hard put finding decent officers but I’m sure there are some. All the current commanders are going to be remanded to the Fleet Penal Facility, pending a full audit of their finances.”
“I’m not sure I can permit that,” Thomas said. “I gave assurances that they were to be given the same safe-conduct as the rest of the parties in this meeting.”
“Great,” Mike said. “As soon as the meeting’s over, I’ll have my personnel handle it. The Tir will shut down the ships to be boarded.”
“Done,” the Tir said, grinding his teeth.
“And you’re in charge of the investigation,” Mike said.
“What?” Cally snapped.
“Who better to know where the bodies are buried than the grave digger, daughter-of-mine?” Mike said, grinning at her. “I mean, it’s not really an investigation, just a matter of punching the right buttons. But, Tir, I want the data to be solid. No fucking around with it. I’m sure there’s enough real dirt you won’t have to. And I want a list of officers that aren’t dirty. They may not be competent but it’s a starting point.”
“They are all quite junior,” the Tir said. “We ensured that.”
“They’ll have to learn fast. Since the most advanced Indowy materials aren’t available anyway, that means the Indowy need to change,” Mike said, looking at Aelool.
“That will be hard to effect,” the Bane Sidhe admitted. “And although I am a clan leader, I am a very junior one. The great clans will not even notice me.”
“They’ll notice the Tir, though,” Mike said, looking at the Darhel. “There is this thing called ‘mass production.’ The Indowy seem to have never heard of it.”
“The economic ramifications… ” Tir Dal Ron said, grinding his teeth.
“Don’t matter,” Mike said. “Wiped out. Keep that in mind. Destroyed. Enslaved. You: Whining. Me: Not listening. Posleen forges can make everything except ACS armor. Yet there are hardly any in production. We both know why. That is changing. Right. Damned. Now.”
“They’re actually quite hard to convert,” Thomas said. “They require… ”
“An advanced mentat or a God-king,” Aelool said. “Get a God-king and you can get as many forges running as you’d like. Keyed to accept input from humans, Indowy or even AIDs.”
“And don’t tell me the Indowy can’t make more or something similar,” Mike said.
“No,” Thomas said. “Making something similar is actually quite easy. It requires, at best, a fourth level sohon, not a seventh.”
“So we should, within no more than a year, have more industrial capacity than we can possibly use,” Mike said, looking at the Tir. “Because we don’t have any soldiers left! Don’t think I’ve forgotten watching my corps wiped out you miserable pissant. And the one thing I would require in the way of retribution is Admiral Suronto’s head on a pike. Fortunately for everyone, he’s already dead. Rigas?”
“Very,” the Himmit said. “I can get recordings.”
“Please do,” Mike said. “I want to watch them over and over again. But right now we’re already down to nearly nothing. Tam, forces?”
“Just what’s here in the system and a scattering in others,” the general said. “Which means, effectively, support troops.”
“SheVas?”
“Zero. Lost them all on R-1496 Delta and none in the works.”
“And that’s squarely on my plate, but it was a battle, not a massacre. ACS?”
“Maybe a dozen suits left here and there,” the general said. “Mostly in the training detachment. We even deactivated the local unit three years ago. They were all transferred to the 11th Corps.”
“Consolidation divisions?”
“Three,” Tam said. “Scattered to hell and gone, mostly in the reclamation zone which is in the opposite direction from the threat. Year or two to get them in-gathered if we’ve got the ships. And they’re not exactly what I’d call first line forces, anyway.”
“Legion?”
“I’ve got some couriers out looking for it. It’s out in the Blight, too, but it’s at least in one group. Basically, there’s not a damned thing available between here and the enemy force. Really nothing between them and Gratoola. Well, there is a force of light armor and the fighters on the Moon. And the Fleet, for what good it will do us. In case you’re
not aware, it’s mostly on paper. The Admirals have been skimming the budget on the rest. Well, the Admirals and the Darhel.”
“Point one in your investigation, Tir,” Mike said. “I believe that translates as Clerk. Well, I’m going to clerk the hell out of you. Get used to it.”
“We will talk,” the Tir said.
“Maybe in a couple of decades,” Mike said. “If any of us survive. You’re going to be too busy in the meantime. And by that time my appeal to the Aldenata will be reviewed.”
“It has to be forwarded,” the Tir growled. “Such appeals cannot come even from human sohon. They must be made by a clan… ”
“Leader,” Aelool said, raising his hand. “Already done.”
“What?” the Tir snarled. “I will… ”
“What, call my debts?” the Indowy said, wrinkling his face again. “As a human would put it: Helllooo! Bane Sidhe! I’ve been off your books for decades. The appeal is already submitted. In fact, there are several small clan leaders associated with the Bane Sidhe. All of them have submitted the claim. And we will be lobbying others to do so.”
“Okay, since that’s settled,” Mike said. “Tam, you’re staying right where you’re at.”
“What?” Colonel Leblanc snapped.
“He’s good at what he does,” Mike said. “We need the quality. Tam, I take it the time for fuck-around’s over?”
“With pleasure,” the general said. “I reiterate: I was trying to hold things together. There’s not much left to hold together, but that was my sole concern. Personally, I was overjoyed at the mutiny. Professionally, I didn’t see it having a chance of working.”
“Because of the AIDs,” Mike said, looking over at the Tir. “Item the second, well more like twelfth. Everything has to reconfigured so the Darhel cannot tamper with it. No single group is to have that power.”
“We’ll just redesign that way,” Tam said. “Most of the equipment’s going to have to be completely changed. In the middle of the worst part of a war.”