by Ryk Brown
“And your boxcars? Can they not carry hundreds?”
“At least,” the admiral admitted. “However, the boxcars are our best means of moving equipment and supplies between worlds. Committing them to combat actions puts them at risk. We lost two of them on Kohara.”
“We have many cargo ships in the Tau Ceti system,” President Kanor reasoned. “And we have shipyards. If we were to outfit some of those ships with jump drives, they could take over the role of interstellar cargo, thus freeing your boxcars for combat actions.”
“Of course, but we still need men,” the admiral replied. “Men with guns, and who know how to use them.”
“We may not have ships, or weapons, but one thing we do have are men,” the representative from Pylius stated. “Men full of hatred for the Jung, I might add. If they could be trained to fight, perhaps by your Ghatazhak…”
“That would take months, perhaps longer,” the admiral said, waving his hand dismissively.
“I’m not suggesting you train them to be as mighty as your Ghatazhak,” the Pylian representative countered, “just that you train them to shoot straight and follow orders. My people have always been willing to fight. We have just never had the tools, nor the opportunity to do so. They will line up by the thousands, I assure you.”
“And they will die by the thousands, I assure you,” Admiral Dumar replied.
“As they will if the Jung return, and in greater numbers.”
Admiral Dumar sighed.
“There is something else we must consider,” President Scott said. The other men at the table turned to look at him. “You have all been discussing if we can continue to liberate Jung-held worlds. Perhaps what we should be discussing is whether or not we should be liberating them.”
“I believe that goes without saying,” the minister from Weldon scoffed.
“Odd statement, coming from the world who most protested being liberated without consent,” President Scott replied.
“That was then, this is now,” the minister answered.
“There are those on Earth who feel that we are provoking the Jung by attacking their forces and liberating their worlds. There are those who say that we are no better than the Jung by doing so.”
“We don’t destroy entire societies in order to make them more manageable,” the Tannan minister sneered.
“Or entire worlds simply to send a message,” President Kanor added.
“Gentlemen,” Admiral Dumar interrupted, “let us not stray into ethical debates, as the question is one of practicality, not morality. Let us assume, for the moment, that we had the forces needed to liberate every Jung-controlled system we wished. The question of whether we should, or should not, must be decided based on necessity, not ethics. What do those systems have to offer us? Is it worth the losses that we might face?”
“You’re wrong, Admiral,” President Scott argued politely. “The question is one of ethics. It always has been. You can tell yourself that you liberated Tau Ceti because of their shipyards, Tanna for their propellant refineries, or Pylius for their thousands of able young men ready to pick up arms against the Jung. But what of Kalita? What of Copora? Neither of them had anything to offer the Alliance.”
“Their proximity to Earth was the justification for their liberation,” Admiral Dumar insisted.
“Nonsense,” President Scott replied. “That may have been the reason you took out the Jung ships in those systems, but you destroyed the Jung surface forces because it was the right thing to do.”
“Only because leaving them intact might pose unexpected complications at a later date,” Admiral Dumar replied.
“Such as?”
“Such as a population that might be punished at the hands of those very forces left on the surface,” the admiral argued. “Which, I might add, is precisely what occurred on Kohara during the two weeks immediately following the defeat of the Jung’s space forces in Tau Ceti. So you see, Mister President, as much as you’d like to think of liberation as the morally right thing to do, it is still a matter of practicality.”
“Yet, you said that we do not have the resources to safely do so,” President Scott reminded the admiral.
“As notification of a resource issue, not as opposition to the idea. On the contrary, Mister President, it is my belief that we should continue to remove Jung forces from every system within the Sol sector, while we still have the advantage. Eventually, the Jung will get a jump drive of their own, either by stealing it or figuring it out for themselves. It might take months, it might take years, but they will get one. Best we create as strong a position as possible, while we still can.”
“If we continue to liberate systems, how will the Alliance be able to protect them?” the Pylian representative wondered.
“By installing secondary jump systems in our ships, we are extending our immediate response zone to thirty light years,” Admiral Dumar replied. “Once all ships have been outfitted, we should be able to counter anything the Jung are likely to throw at us, barring a full-scale invasion.”
“And if they send such an invasion force?” the Pylian representative inquired.
“The more worlds we liberate, the more unlikely that becomes,” the admiral explained. “Assuming that there are no battle groups in transit that we have missed, it would be at least three months before any of your worlds could be reached by the Jung. By then, we will have three jump-capable warships with which to respond. By four months, we will have five, not to mention a few dozen gunships, and plenty of KKVs, both jump capable and conventional.” Admiral Dumar looked at the tired faces sitting at the table with him, knowing that the decisions made at this table today would influence multiple worlds, and billions of people. Every person at the table was equally aware, and it weighed just as heavily on their minds as it did on the admiral’s. “Gentlemen, we can do this. We just need the commitment of people and resources, particularly your industrial capacities, in order to do so. We can provide you all with Takaran fabrication technology. Within weeks, you will have several of them. Within months you will have dozens. A year from now, your industrial and technological capabilities will have increased one hundred fold.”
“Assuming we all survive,” the minister from Weldon commented dryly.
“I will not lie to you,” Admiral Dumar said. “The risk is great. But inaction carries the same risk, perhaps even more so. Granted, the Alliance liberated your worlds without consent. I truly wish that had not been necessary, but necessary it was…and still is. However, I will not drag you further into war without your consent. So, I ask each of you, here and now, to support us as full members of this Alliance, complete with all the risks and rewards that such an alliance brings, and help us bring the same freedom to the rest of the core.” Admiral Dumar looked at the men at the table. “How say you?”
Admiral Dumar watched as one by one, five hands went up. He looked at the sixth man, President Scott, at the far end of the table. “Mister President?”
“There is a famous quote from old Earth,” President Scott recalled, “one that my son taught me. It was from long before the great plague. ‘All that is needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’ The Earth and the people of the Pentaurus cluster formed this Alliance for the purpose of protecting all our freedoms. More importantly, we did so to ensure our very survival. We shall not give up.”
President Scott raised his hand.
Admiral Dumar smiled. “Gentlemen, I thank you. Return to your worlds, and put out the call. Soldiers, technicians, specialists, engineers, general laborers…everyone is needed. We are going to war.”
* * *
Captain Nash walked across the hangar bay of the old Jung fighter base on the small asteroid orbiting Tanna. Crews scurried about, busy with the ongoing task of converting the base into an operational support facility for the new gunships currently being produced on the surface of Tanna. On the far side of the hangar bay stood twenty-two men, clustered around the entrances to the first
four boarding tunnels that had been added to the base to allow the new gunships a place to berth when not in operation.
“Fall in!” Lieutenant Commander Rano barked as he noticed his commanding officer approaching.
Captain Nash walked up and stood next to the lieutenant commander as his men quickly got into formation. He paused a moment to look them over. He had spent the last seven days putting them, and many others, through simulator hell in preparation for this day. He only hoped it was enough.
Once the men had gathered, Captain Nash began. “Gentlemen, welcome to Cobra Base. Those of you gathered here today have consistently scored the highest in both your practical and written assessments. Because of that, you will be the first to receive your ships. For most of you, your ride up from the surface this morning was your first time in space. So, for those of you who left your breakfast on the floor of the shuttle, or worse, on your neighbor’s lap, don’t feel too bad. You’ll get used to it. For the last week, you have all trained separately. Flight crews have trained in the cockpit simulators, engineers and sensor operators on computer simulations, and gunners in the quad-gun simulators. Now, you’re going to train together, in the real thing.”
Captain Nash glanced at the expressions on the men’s faces, none of which looked terribly confident. “Yeah, I know, a terrifying thought. In a perfect world, you’d all spend a couple months in full-ship simulators before you’d go anywhere near the real thing. Unfortunately, this isn’t a perfect world. The fact is, we need these ships manned and ready for action as soon as humanly possible. Good idea or bad, it is what it is. All of you were chosen because you were the best of your class, and therefore, have the highest probability of being able to operate your gunships safely, without flying them into one another, or shooting the ship next to you.”
Captain Nash paused, noticing a raised hand. “Mister Sennott, is it?” he asked, pointing to the young man.
“Yes, sir. Gunnery Specialist Sennott. I thought our guns couldn’t fire on friendlies?”
“It was a joke, Specialist.”
“Ah, of course, sir. My apologies,” the young man replied, appearing somewhat embarrassed.
“But since we’re on the topic, try not to put too much faith in the auto-fire interrupt systems. Nothing built by humans is ever perfect, and the comrade who inadvertently wanders into your field of fire will appreciate your diligence.”
Captain Nash raised his data pad to read the names. “I will be in command of Cobra One, also known as Cobra Leader. Lieutenant Commander Rano will be my XO. Annatah and Jahansir, you’ll be CO and XO of Cobra Two. Harral and Lucco, you’ll be CO and XO of Cobra Three. Orel and Keupek, you’ll be CO and XO of Cobra Four. You six will report to me for your pre-assignment briefings. The rest of you report to Lieutenant Commander Rano for your ship assignments. Once you’ve received your ship assignment, you may board your ships and settle in. But please, do not touch anything. Just take a look around, get familiar with your ships, and wait for your COs to arrive. Your first flight will be at fourteen hundred, Tannan Mean Time, or three hours from now. Welcome aboard, gentlemen.”
Captain Nash watched and waited, as the men broke apart into two separate groups. Six of them forming up on him, while the others swarmed around his XO, Lieutenant Commander Rano. His attention turned to the six young men now standing in front of him, their expressions a mixture of pride, excitement, and anxiety. “Gentlemen, I’d like to congratulate you all on your promotions,” he began, as he passed out rank insignias and data pads to each of them. “Your job will be the hardest. Not only will you have to learn to fly your ships with the least amount of simulator training time ever, but you’ll have to manage your crews at the same time. To make things even more difficult, your instructor, myself, has less than one hundred flight hours in this type of ship. Granted, they handle a lot like the Scout-class on which they were based, but they are very different, believe me. They are faster, more maneuverable, and have much bigger teeth. Luckily, as you know, they are also far more automated. So if you get overwhelmed, better you fall back on your auto-flight systems rather than put your crew, and your ship, in danger. Just remember, always fly your ship first, worry about your crew second, and the enemy third. It is almost always better to bug out and survive to fight another day.”
“Sir?” Captain Annatah asked, “You said almost always. How do you know when it isn’t a good idea to bug out?”
Captain Nash offered a half smile. “Trust me, you’ll know.”
* * *
“My name is Captain Gilbert Roselle, and I am the commanding officer of the Jar-Benakh. I am an arrogant, egotistical, loud-mouthed, hard-ass son of a bitch of a captain, if ever there was one. I will tolerate nothing short of your absolute best effort, as I will always give you mine. I will never ask you to risk your lives unless I am willing to risk my own as well, and I will never put you in harm’s way without due consideration. But make no mistake, you have all volunteered to serve on a combat vessel, at a time of war. For that, each of you has already proven that you are worthy of my respect. Just try to keep it that way.”
Captain Roselle glanced at his XO, who could barely control the smirk at the corner of his mouth. He turned his attention back to the one hundred men gathered in the middle of hangar deck four. “You men will be trained in the basic operation of this ship. You will be relentlessly drilled, over and over, until you can perform your jobs in your sleep. It will seem excessive to the point of frustration, but believe me, your first time under fire, you’ll thank me for it. You, in turn, will help train the next one hundred, and the hundred after them, and so on. Eventually, a few months from now, this ship will be properly staffed, and ready for anything.”
Captain Roselle paused for a moment, his expression turning even more serious. “Some of us will die. That is a foregone conclusion on a combat vessel in a time of war. Try as we will to prevent it, it will come. The best advice I can give you is to not fear death. Only fear failure, and me, of course.” Roselle snickered as he turned to his XO. “How’s that for a pep talk, huh?” he said as he stepped down from the podium.
Commander Ellison stepped up to the podium to take over. “Gentlemen, your duty assignments are posted on the data displays on the wall to your right. You will find your berthing assignments there as well. Once dismissed, find your bunks and stow your gear. Review your procedures and restrictions. I caution you not to wander into areas of the ship which you are not authorized to enter. The Ghatazhak take security very seriously. Neither they, the captain, nor myself tolerate stupidity very easily. Your first meal call will be at twelve hundred, ship time. You will report to your duty assignments at fourteen hundred for orientations. Your training officers will give you your training schedules at that time. See that you adhere to them.”
Commander Ellison allowed the slightest smile to form on the corner of his mouth. “Welcome aboard the Jar-Benakh.”
Captain Roselle watched the men as they crowded around the data displays on the wall, each of them eager to see where they would be serving.
“What do you think?” Commander Ellison asked as he approached.
“I think we’re fucked,” the captain grumbled.
“I don’t know, Gil. They seem like a good group of able-bodied young men.”
“Not one of which has any military training, let alone combat experience.”
“Everyone’s got to start somewhere, Gil.”
“Hell, half of them don’t even speak English.”
“Give them time,” the commander replied. “Meanwhile, we’ve got plenty of translators. At least most of them have technical backgrounds.”
“Yeah, as long as all they have to do is push buttons, they’ll be fine,” Captain Roselle grumbled as he turned and headed toward the exit.
“The first hundred are the most qualified of all the volunteers that have come forth so far,” Commander Ellison reminded him. “That’s why we are starting with them. These guys will probably end up a
s department heads.”
“Yeah, I know,” Roselle replied, still uneasy about the situation. “How are the mark fives doing?” he asked as they entered the corridor.
“Fourth one is going in today. They should be ready to start calibration and testing by the end of the week.”
“Good,” the captain replied. “I’ll feel better once they’re up and running.”
“The hull repairs will be wrapped up by tomorrow afternoon.”
“What about the broadside cannons?”
“The mark threes arrived from Karuzara last night…all twelve of them. It’ll take another two days to finish installing the tracks, so we should be able to start installation three days from now,” the commander explained.
“I wish I could see the face of the first captain to be on the receiving end of them,” Roselle said with a devious grin. “Gonna surprise the hell out of him, that’s for sure.”
“I’m sure it will.”
“Any word on the jump missile program?” the captain asked as he came to a stop outside the elevator door.
“Only that they are conducting the first test firing tomorrow.”
“Let’s not waste any training time on the missile systems until we know for sure what we’re going to be firing, Commander. It’s bad enough we don’t have adequate training time to begin with, let alone having to waste time retraining them.”
“Already planned on it, sir. They’ll be concentrating on launcher maintenance for now.”
“Great,” Captain Roselle said as the elevator doors opened and he stepped inside. “I’ll be in command.”
* * *
“Heavy One Four reports target drone is deployed,” Mister Bryant announced.
Admiral Dumar glanced up at the tactical display in the Karuzara Command center as the flashing red icon representing the target drone separated from the steady blue icon of the cargo jump shuttle.
“Target drone is on course and speed,” the tactical officer reported. “Missile targeting system has a lock on the drone. We have a good targeting data link with the weapon. We are ready to launch.”