by Jay Allan
Winton was nodding as Holm spoke. “I agree, general. My best guess is that the enemy has ground capability we haven’t seen yet. And if those ships are also heavily automated that frees up even more space.”
“Well, all we can do is keep our guard up.” Garret wanted to move the meeting along. “We’re already committing everything we can scrape up anyway.” He looked over at Winton. “Let’s move on to any other insights, Jack.”
Winton cleared his throat. “Yes, admiral. I think we can say with a reasonable degree of confidence that the enemy is experiencing some sort of logistical problem. Our analysis of the enemy hulls suggests that they can carry more anti-matter weapons than we have seen used…even restricting these to external mounts only. It certainly looks like a shortage to me. Whether it is an overall lack of sufficient ordnance or a transport problem in bringing it to the front, we don’t know. It is possible that both conditions exist. But, at present, the enemy seems to have sharply limited supplies of their most powerful weapons.”
“That will make Colonel Spark’s ECM drones even more useful. If their supplies are low already and we can trick them into expending what they do have, we may be able negate the antimatter weapons entirely.” Compton was speaking to everyone, but he was looking at Garret.
“At least once or twice.” Garret’s voice was distant; he was deep in thought as he spoke. “They’re not stupid, we can be sure of that much. It would be foolish for us to believe we can deceive them repeatedly.” He was looking out across the table, but he wasn’t focusing on anyone. “Though I would like to discuss some thoughts I have on the enemy’s tactics.” He turned toward Winton, his eyes clear and focusing again. “Before me move on, do you have anything else to add, Jack?”
Winton thought for a second. There was one other thing on his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up. “Well…there is one more subject I wanted to broach.” He was clearly uncomfortable.
“Go ahead, Jack.” Garret slapped his hand lightly on the table. “Whatever you have to say, just say it.”
“Well, sir. The evacuation plans…they are drawing off a significant percentage of our transport capacity. And now we’ve been talking about moving people off Sandoval and the other worlds along the enemy’s path.”
“What are you saying, Jack? That we should leave those civilians to die?” Admiral Compton looked incredulous.
“No sir. I am not saying that at all.” Winton was a little nervous. He didn’t like being cast as some cold-hearted mathematician sacrificing lives as if he were moving numbers on a spreadsheet. But he knew they just couldn’t ignore the problem either. “What I am saying is that you may find yourself fighting the enemy without missiles or trying to defend worlds with understrength ground units.” Winton hadn’t intended to end up as the one advocating leaving colonists behind to be slaughtered, but they had to discuss this issue. If they lost this war for lack of weapons and troop transport, the civilian casualties would be astronomical. Possibly the entire human race.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” Compton’s voice was apologetic. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” He stared silently at Winton for a few seconds. “It’s just hard to compare saving lives to carting missiles.”
“We’re going to have to compare them if we want to win this war.” Garret’s voice was firm. “There is no point pretending otherwise. We’re going to requisition every civilian craft we can get our hands on and do everything possible to get as many people as possible off these worlds.” He looked around the table, cold determined eyes staring at each individual present in turn. “But the war effort has priority. It has to.”
He slid back his chair and stood up. “People are going to die in this fight. This isn’t the kind of war we’ve fought before…petty squabbles over new resource worlds. This is a war for survival, plain and simple. Everybody in this room needs to realize that right now. We are not going to rip into each other because we’re angry and frustrated that we had to leave civilians behind so we could supply our troops and ships. Of course we’re upset…but taking it out on each other isn’t going to accomplish anything.” The volume of his voice was increasing. He wasn’t yelling, not exactly. But he was making his point forcefully. “We are going to have to cooperate with…to trust…old enemies. We are going to have to be coldly realistic in everything we do…even if that means pulling troops off a world and leaving the civilians behind.” He slapped his hand down on the table, harder this time. “Because the only thing we can’t do…the one truly unthinkable thing…is to lose this war.”
The room was silent for a long moment. Garret had done what he had to do, said what needed to be said. He and Holm were technically equals in the joint military establishment, but Garret was older and had served longer at command rank. He was informally considered the overall commander…by Holm as well as everyone else. It had been his responsibility to address head on the concerns that were eating away at them all. They were all scared, and everyone knew that. That last thing they needed was to be at each other’s throats besides.
Garret could see it in the faces around the table - he’d made his point. He gave them all another few seconds to consider what had been said. “I trust that we are all on the same page now.” He stepped back behind his chair and started walking slowly around the room. “I will assume from the silence that we are in agreement. If we can move on now, I’d like to discuss some tactical issues. General Holm and I have reviewed every engagement in excruciating detail, and we have developed a few useful insights.”
“First, while the enemy’s technology is vastly superior to our own, their tactics are decidedly mediocre. At least to the extent we have seen to date.” He was walking slowly back and forth along the table as he spoke. “Admiral West’s attack was a brilliant maneuver. Nevertheless, even factoring in the surprise the admiral achieved, the enemy seemed to be exceptionally non-reactive…as if the audacity of her plan was difficult for them to comprehend. Admiral Compton and I have gamed the scenario several times. Against a strong opponent, Admiral West’s fleet would have gained a considerable edge, but she would never have managed to hit with her missile barrage while antimatter weapons were still mounted. Certainly not multiple times.”
“So what are we saying?” Cain had been quiet a long time, but now he spoke out. “That these…whatever they are…are vastly ahead of us technologically, but behind us in tactics? Isn’t that a dangerous assumption for us to make?”
“You’re right about one thing, Erik.” Garret stopped his pacing and looked over at Cain. “We can’t assume anything. But we still have to look for whatever advantages we can find. And this enemy seems hidebound…inexplicably unimaginative when it comes to battle strategy.”
“Think about it, Erik.” Holm now, turning to face Cain as he spoke. “Look at Teller’s reports from Cornwall. The enemy’s tactics were simplistic. They pushed his people back because of their tech advantage, not because they outfought him. If you look at that battle, Teller fought rings around them…it just wasn’t enough to overcome the superior firepower and damage resistance of the enemy.”
Garret was nodding as Holm finished. “General Holm is correct. On land as well as in space, there is a decided lack of creativity and initiative on the part of the enemy. They attack…they are relentless, but their tactics are basic, simple.”
“Perhaps they simply don’t have the experience your people do.” It was Roderick Vance, who hadn’t said a word all day. “Think about our history. We are a detestable species in some ways.” Vance didn’t get up, but he straightened in his chair and slid in closer to the table. “We have been fighting and killing each other since the dawn of history. The Unification Wars almost destroyed the Earth, so we exported our conflicts, and now we fight in space.” He turned to face Holm. “Tell me, general, how many years of total peace have your people seen in the last 20 years? 30?”
Holm shook his head grimly. “Not many.” He looked back at Vance. “Are you suggesting th
at these beings are not violent by nature?”
“Clearly they are capable of extreme violence. I’m not in position to state anything specifically…none of us are. All I am saying is there are many reasons why they may lack the proficiency in war that we take for granted.” Vance’s voice was calm, his poker face unreadable. He wasn’t trying to hide anything from these people, but a lifetime’s habit is hard to shake. “Perhaps they are united as a species and do not fight among themselves. They could be utterly dominant in their primary sphere, and they may have been so for a very long time. Maybe they haven’t faced an enemy in centuries…or millennia…or ever. Possibly we’re the only other intelligent species they’ve encountered. We can’t know…we can only observe and draw conclusions.”
“Mr. Vance is correct.” Garret gestured toward the Martian industrialist/spy as he spoke. “All we can do is utilize whatever we can to obtain any advantage we can get. We’ve got the most experienced combat officers in the Alliance in here. The people in this room are going to create the strategies that win or lose this war. We need to use anything we can. And for now, what we know is the enemy seems to employ ritualized, inflexible tactics both in space and on the ground.” He panned his eyes across the table. “Use that.”
Garret turned and walked back toward his seat. “That just leaves us one more topic to discuss…the strategic plan going forward. General Holm and I have prepared a broad course of action that we’d like to share with you now.” He looked over at Holm. “Elias?”
Holm stood up, a little slowly perhaps, but he’d been sitting all day and his old wounds had stiffened up. “Thank you, Augustus.” He turned to look down the table. “I’d like to introduce our tactical plan.” He scooped a controller off the desk and pressed a button. The screen displayed a stylized two-dimensional map of solar systems and connecting warp gates. The stars were small circles in a variety of colors. He pressed again and three of the star icons began shimmering. “Sandoval, Garrison, Samvar…three crucial systems, which from now on we will call the Line.” He paused, looking out across the table. “This is where we make our stand.”
There was a long pause. “Sir…pulling back to those systems means abandoning another dozen colonies.” Cain was staring at the map as he spoke. “Isn’t that a big concession to make?” He was also thinking that they’d never be able to evacuate all the colonists from that many systems, but he kept it to himself. Garret had been right – they were all upset about the civilian casualties, and beating each other up about it wasn’t going to help anything.
“We need two things, Erik. Time and a defensible bottleneck.” Holm pressed another button and the screen zoomed in on the highlighted stars. “These three locations are just such a bottleneck. The warp paths from all known enemy incursion points must pass through one of these systems to reach the rest of human-occupied space.” He pressed the button again and the map zoomed back out. “There is no similarly defensible spot anywhere between these stars and the heart of occupied space. And Sandoval has a warp gate to Garrison, and Garrison has one to Samvar, so we’ll have goo interior lines…we’ll be able to easily shift reserves.”
“If I may interject, since Samvar is a Caliphate colony, it also makes this a joint defensive effort. That can only aid us in fostering cooperation between the Powers. If the Alliance and Caliphate can work together to face the enemy, the other Superpowers will fall into line.” Vance hadn’t intended to involve himself into the discussion of tactics, but he took the opportunity to address cooperation again. He was still worried about how well former enemies could work together. Old hatreds and prejudices could end up dooming the entire human race.
Holm nodded to the Martian. “Mr. Vance is correct. Cooperation between the Powers will be essential. Regardless of our past disputes, none of the Superpowers can defeat this enemy alone.” He looked at Cain. “I know it will be difficult… for me no less than anyone else…but we must work together.”
He glanced over at Sparks. “We also need time…time to build fortifications, time to get some of Colonel Sparks’ new systems into action. By choosing a defensive line this far back, we are likely to get it. As Admiral Winton noted, the enemy appears to have logistical problems. We’re going to exacerbate those. We’re going to stretch out their supply line and give them a massive fight when they’re far from their support.”
He turned and glanced at the screen. “And that space we give up will buy us time too. The enemy has been slow to advance after each engagement. If their behavior continues according to pattern, they will methodically occupy each system along the way. That time is priceless to us. We’re bringing up allied forces and even towing orbital fortresses from nearby systems. Every week or month we get makes those three systems stronger.”
Cain still looked concerned. “I can’t argue with the logic, sir.” He was staring at the display, but in his mind the star map extended offscreen…into the heart of the Alliance. “We will be gambling heavily on our ability to hold at your Line. If the enemy gets past us, they’re going to run wild through our core systems.” He turned and looked back at Holm. “We won’t be talking about thousands dead…it will be millions.”
“And billions if they reach Earth, Erik.” Holm spoke softly, barely loud enough for everyone to hear. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we need to choose someplace to make a stand.” His eyes bored into Cain’s. “Do you really think penny-packet defenses of outer colony worlds is the way to do that?”
Cain was silent for a moment. He knew Holm was right…in fact, he liked the basic tactics behind the plan. But he hated to give up ground. He’d spent his formative years as a command officer fighting to take back real estate lost early in the war. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like it now. But he realized there was no option. “I agree, sir.”
“I’m glad, Erik. Because you’ve got the shit job…you and Admiral West.” Holm’s tone became darker, sadder. “We need time, and you’re going to have to buy it for us. And I don’t expect it to be cheap.” He took a deep breath. “You have to hold Farpoint for as long as you can. Every extra day increases our chances to win this war. To survive.”
Cain stood silently, looking back at Holm, his mind lost in thought. Erik had never chased glory…he’d never really cared about it. The medals, the fame, the awards…they’d mostly made him uncomfortable. For him the Corps was about camaraderie, about being part of a brotherhood. About fighting for something better, something more worthy than the hell he’d come from. When he was young he had believed in that…he’d believed it with his heart and soul. But now he looked to that place his resolve had come from and there were only doubts. A lifetime of war, and what had changed? A legion of slaughtered friends and what had it gotten them? Another war? A never ending cycle of suffering and death?
He felt himself trying to push through the doubts, the dark thoughts, and answer the general. But it was hard…difficult in a way that was new to him. It wasn’t fear…though he was afraid…afraid of pain and death, afraid that he’d never see Sarah again…afraid of the judgment on his soul for the masses of faithful troops he’d led knowingly to slaughter. But this wasn’t fear. It was exhaustion…a fatigue deep inside him. Maybe, he thought, there is a limit to the butcher’s bill one man can endure.
“Erik?”
Cain could hear Holm’s voice through his daydream, and he pushed back the grim thoughts, slowly, painstakingly clearing his mind. “Sorry, general.” Erik Cain was a creature of duty, and he knew he would never retreat from that. He would find a way…somehow. “We’ll hold them off, sir. Admiral West and I will give them a hell of a fight.”
“I know you will, Erik.” Holm could see Cain was struggling with his inner demons. No man had been more on the forefront of the Alliance’s struggles for the past two decades than Cain. And no one knew Erik Cain like Holm did, save for Sarah Linden and perhaps Jax. “I’m counting on you.” He walked across the room and put his hand on Cain’s shoulder. “There is no one I
trust more.”
Cain forced a smile. “Thank you, sir.” He looked into the general’s eyes and hoped his weakness didn’t show in his own. “You can count on me, sir.” But there was still doubt in his mind…and something else. A coldness, something he’d never felt. Is this a premonition, he wondered…is this what so many other warriors have felt? Perhaps this is my last battle…maybe death is finally catching up to me. He wondered if that wouldn’t be a blessing of sorts, but he quickly suppressed those thoughts. He tried to put it out of his mind and focus on the work to be done, but the cold feeling was still there, hanging on the edge of this thoughts.
Chapter 22
Critical Care Unit 3 Armstrong Joint Services Medical Center Armstrong - Gamma Pavonis III
“You are doing very well, James.” Sarah Linden gave Teller a sweet smile. “You’re a much better patient than Erik. I think there are still a few staff members here who draw nasty little cartoons of him.”
Teller smiled. It didn’t hurt. He was still getting used to things not hurting. For almost four months, every move he made was accompanied by excruciating pain. “There are a few Marines who do the same.” Teller surprised himself – he hadn’t realized he felt well enough to make a joke. Actually, he thought, you’d have to look far and wide in the Corps to find anyone with anything but reverent respect for Erik Cain. And that included James Teller.
“I’m clearing you for limb regeneration.” She maintained her smile, but a little look of sympathy crept onto her face.
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t get used to being out of pain?” Teller winked at her. “I’ll be fine, doc. I’m a Marine. We don’t even feel pain.” Limb regenerations were notoriously excruciating, and most anesthetics and pain relievers were off the table - they interfered with proper nerve growth. The pain was so bad that many patients needed psychiatric counseling to get over it once their new arms and legs were grown.