by Jay Allan
"The plan is underway, but progress is slow." Number Four's voice sounded normal - too normal. A regular crowd wouldn't notice the perfection of the tones, but this was a room full of spooks, and they all could tell it was a fake. But it wasn't in any of their interests to push for information Number One didn't want to share. Not in the open, at least. "The political officers have been assigned to units currently in base. It is not practical to interfere with the command structures of deployed forces while they are on campaign."
"What response have the political officers received from the Marine personnel?" Stark had a pretty good idea, but he wanted to hear it anyway.
"There has been considerable resistance." The hologram moved naturally as Number Four spoke, turning to face whoever had asked the last question. "As you know, the Marines are recruited from among those who least fit in with the normal population. Their training builds on this, and the result has been an extraordinarily effective fighting force. The Corps fills a void in their lives, which creates a very high level of morale and élan. However, loyalty is largely to the Corps itself and not Alliance Gov. In fact, most Marine personnel harbor a level of resentment, at least against the system in general if not the government in particular."
"Yes, yes, we are aware of all of this. It is the primary reason we have initiated this plan." Number One found himself looking at the hologram as he spoke. Damn, those things are realistic, he thought as he forced himself to turn away. "But what is the status of implementation?"
"Few of the officers have truly accepted the attachment of political overseers. Instances of true insubordination have been rare, but there has been tremendous resistance to integrating the new officers into the command structures. Among the Marines themselves there has been considerable grumbling. To date, we have not implemented any disciplinary measures. In fact, with virtually the entire officer corps of one mind on this matter, it will prove to be extremely difficult to impose any serious penalties. At least conventionally."
Stark reminded himself not to look at the hologram. Not for any particular reason other than it made him feel foolish talking to a laser-generated phantom as is it were a human being. "Do we have any reports regarding the impact on the operational efficiency of the units in combat?"
"Negative." The hologram looked back at Stark as it answered his question. "Although some units with assigned political liaison staff have been deployed to campaigns, none of these operations have reached a decisive point as of yet. We do have reports that officers are generally keeping the political officers out of the chains of information and command wherever possible. Whether this is the result of multiple instances of individual resistance or a more orchestrated campaign of non-compliance is not yet evident."
"I'd like to interject something into this debate." The gray-haired man sitting next to Stark had been silent until now.
"Yes, Number Two, what would you like to add?" Stark paid close attention to everything Number Two said. The old man would have been Number One himself, but he felt he was no longer up to the demands of the job, and he'd asked his protégé Stark to leapfrog him and take the Chair.
"First, let me make clear that I am in complete agreement that something must be done about the Marine organization as well as the colonial governments, so what I say now is only intended in the context of how best to tactically execute the needed changes in the near term." He looked around the table as several of those present nodded their understanding.
"I have some concerns about implementing these measures too quickly at this time. While the war has unquestionably taken an upward trajectory from the disastrous early years, it is far from over. I am extremely hesitant to do anything that might impair the combat effectiveness or morale of our forces until victory is assured.
"We have managed to keep the empire out of the current conflict by an effective campaign of bribery and blackmail. However, if I understand Number Seven's report" - he looked briefly over at that operative, who nodded in response - "General Santiago has been removed from command and may, in fact, have been executed. In any event, he is certainly no longer in a position to sabotage Imperial combat readiness in return for the stipend we have been paying him. We know the Imperial high command is planning attacks on several of our colony worlds. I agree with our decision to withhold warning from our field commanders - the outrage caused by a surprise attack will be quite useful as a propaganda tool, both in terms of focusing the attention of the military and instilling a useful amount of fear and nationalism into the civilian populations. Overall, it is clear the war is escalating, not winding down. I must question if now is the time to tinker too significantly with the military."
"Do we need to do this at all?" asked Number Ten. "It was relatively easy to maneuver the Marines off of EE-4. Perhaps we can handle things in a less sweeping manner. Maybe we don't need to completely eliminate the Corps. They are a very effective fighting force, and that is useful as long as we can maintain the requisite degree of control."
Number Two took a drink of water and cleared his throat. "The Corps must be replaced by a more, ah...pliable organization, at least eventually. We all know our history. For nearly a hundred years, the current system has served to remove troublesome elements from Earth and turn them into a valuable resource off-world. The very nature of the system makes the entire force uncontrollable. If we were able to select their officers we might be in a position to work with the current structure, but they all start as privates. It is an interesting system from the perspective of the fighting man or woman, and I can think of no historical force where the officers were as loved and respected by the foot soldiers. There is no reasonable way to infiltrate and control the organization from outside. If we tried to sack the existing officer class and replace them with political appointees, we would face a force-wide mutiny.
He paused for a breath. "We know why things were set up this way. The Unification Wars had just ended, and the government was in utter disarray. There was no choice but to deal with the military and negotiate the structure of the off-world service, and the resulting flow of military settlers helped build the early colonies. But our colonial presence was a fraction of what it is today, and the Corps was small....fewer than 10,000 during the First Frontier War. Even fifteen years ago there were only 40,000 in total. Now there are over 250,000 active duty personnel, armed with state of the art equipment and nuclear weapons. They have become too strong a force for us to allow outside of our control."
He tapped a few times on his 'pad. "I just sent you each a dossier containing a watchlist of political trouble spots in the colonies. You will note the length of the list and the fact that almost every vital resource-producing world is on it. There are retired Marines settled on most of these worlds, creating an incestuous relationship we can no longer ignore. The Corps is extremely effective at combating foreign enemies, but if a colonial world rebelled, would they execute an order to crush the revolt?"
He paused to let them consider what he had just said. "I am also sending you all an economic impact study that shows just how important our colonies have become to the nation." He poked at the 'pad again. "This war has been extremely expensive, and our economy, which was already precarious, has been pushed to the breaking point. If we were to lose the resources of the colonies, or even suffer serious disturbances, we could face total economic collapse within three years.
"There is no doubt that we must take steps to insure our unquestioned control of the off-world military. But we cannot risk defeat in this war. Therefore, I counsel that we proceed with our initiatives, but slowly. If we experience pushback, indulge it for now. When the war is won there will, of course, be a significant demobilization of the Corps. That will give us the chance to make a more substantial move to take control...or simply to replace the entire structure."
The room was silent for a moment. Some of the people present were thinking about what Number Two had said; others were simply hesitating, not wanting to express an opinion until t
hey saw what Number One would say.
Stark just sat quietly, amused by the fact that they all waited for him to express an opinion. Let them wait a while, he thought. They assumed we was stewing on what Number Two had said, but the two of them had already discussed the topic thoroughly, and they were both were on the same page. What Stark was really thinking about was Alex's legs. Specifically, some of the more interesting ways they'd been wrapped around him. She was wearing a very short skirt, something she’d made sure he noticed.
Finally, he broke the silence. "I agree with Number Two's conclusions. We will proceed with the deployment of the political officers, however no coercive or punitive measures are to be employed until the war is nearing conclusion. We will push very softly on the Marines until they have won the war for us." He paused for a moment. "However, we might as well do some prep work. Instruct the political officers to compile a list of troublesome Marine personnel. When the time comes, we will deal with them first. Perhaps we can cut off the head of the snake, so to speak."
He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out over the skyline as he continued. "I do, however, think this is an excellent time to step up the implementation of our program to establish greater control over the civilian governments of the colonies themselves. They have had far too much leeway in the past. I want each of you to review the dossier Number Two prepared. When we meet back here next month, be prepared to discuss the specifics for deploying Directorate enforcement personnel to colony worlds, beginning with the most troublesome ones. The war gives us an excellent opportunity, especially on the planets most vulnerable to enemy action - and the projected Imperial surprise attacks will only help in this regard. The pretext of improving defensive capabilities will allow us to established enhanced civilian monitoring in a clandestine manner. Let's also develop a plan to assign a Directorate supervisor as advisor to each of the colonial governments."
Stark looked around the table to see everyone present nodding in agreement. "Lastly, Number Five, what is the status of our training program for our Directorate military units?"
Number Five cleared his throat. "We have graduated two battalions, which have been assigned to Number Ten's EE-4 security operation. As we reviewed at our last meeting, we are still having difficulty with the powered armor training. The Corps has had a virtual monopoly on elite powered infantry for nearly a century, so we've had to start from scratch on our efforts."
"What is the feasibility of ramping up the magnitude of the program?" Stark was looking down at his 'pad as he spoke. "We're going to need to move more than two battalions through at a time if we're going to replace the Corps within the next 5-7 years."
"Sir, there are some difficulties we will have to overcome before a massive escalation of the program is possible." Number Five was always nervous when he had to tell Number One something he didn't want to hear. Troy Warren had been a corporate magnate and not a political academy graduate like the others. Even though he'd worked his way onto the Directorate, he wasn't a career intelligence operative, and he sometimes felt like the odd man out. "Our instructional regimen is already substantially accelerated from the standard Marine curriculum. Our casualty rate during training is over 200% of that of the Marine course, despite the greater intensity of their program."
Number Three scowled. "Are we overly concerned with casualty rates? It's not as if we are likely to run out of cogs any time soon."
"It's not the recruits; it is the wasted cost and program capacity used on trainees who are going to end up in bodybags and not the battlefield." Warren was annoyed, but he tried to hide it. He was almost as scared of Number Three as he was of Number One. We already have to start with 4,000 recruits to graduate two battalions. If we could cut down the loss rate to parity with the Marines, we could more than double our output of combat-ready units."
Number One made a face. "Are they really combat ready?" He started to turn to the hologram, but stopped himself again. "Number Four, you've had a chance to review the reports on our first two battalions. Would you characterize them as combat ready?"
The laser-generated image turned toward Number One. "It depends on how you define the term." The Number Four projection paused for a second, then continued. "Against planetary militias or armed rebels I am certain they would acquit themselves satisfactorily. They have a substantial advantage in equipment over second rate or reserve units and would likely be used in situations where we had total local space superiority."
There was a moment of silence before Number One spoke. This time he forgot to catch himself, and he turned to face the hologram. "And against better adversaries?"
The image coughed twice before speaking. Wherever the real Number Four was, he had a dry throat. "If they faced a Marine assault force or Caliphate front line units they'd get cut to pieces unless they had a substantial numerical advantage."
"How substantial?" The hologram turned around. The question had come from Alex, who asked it mostly because she knew that's what Number One wanted to know. It never hurt to remind him what a good team they made.
"At least three to one. More if they are facing real combat veterans. Their unit tactics are simply not good enough to go up against elite troops. But the worst problem is the lack of any blooded veterans in the organization. Not the non-coms, not the officers. We don't have anyone at all in the formations with combat experience. We're recruiting cogs as footsoldiers and pulling the non-coms and officers from the terrestrial army, but these guys haven't fought a war in a century. They're glorified internal security."
"Thank you, Number Four." Stark spoke up more quickly this time, before Number Six could say anything else. He enjoyed Alex's games...to a point. But he had to get moving, so it was time to wrap things up. "I want the training program ramped up now so we're moving six battalions through at a time. Number Five, I want you to consult with Number Four on how to improve our training program. In five years, seven outside, these troops are going to have to be able to take on any enemy - the CAC, Caliphate, even our existing Marines if they resist demobilization."
Number Five was going to argue, but he decided against it. "Yes, sir."
"Number Six, I will be in London until tomorrow. I have a mission for you after you finish on EE-4. Let's discuss tomorrow night before you leave." He looked out over the table. "If there's nothing else..." He knew there wouldn't be; he'd already signaled the meeting was over. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen. I will see you all in a month."
Chapter 4
Control Center
AS Pendragon
In orbit around Columbia - Eta Cassiopeiae II
Cain wasn't sure what he thought of the new Gordon II landers. They were bigger, which not only allowed one craft to carry a whole squad instead of just a fire team; it also increased the storage space available. Remembering back to his squad leader days, he was sure he would have liked having all his men with him during an assault. As an officer, however, he wondered if it wasn't better to have a squad combat loaded on two separate craft. In a pinch, a team could fill in for a squad, at least for a while, but if you lost the entire unit you had a hole in your line.
But battles had gotten bigger. The first time Erik Cain stepped into the launch bay of a troopship, he was part of an assault with two companies. His most recent battle had seen 18,500 troops hit the ground, 1,400 under his direct command. Larger landers helped get more troops planetside, and the enhanced storage capacity was useful for the sustained campaigns that were becoming the norm.
The escalation in the scale of war was everywhere. Erik's early drops were made from the AS Guadalcanal, a fast troopship that carried a single company and about 60 sailors. During Operation Sherman, his regiment had been billeted on the Pendragon and two of her sister ships, massive kilometer-long transports, each carrying a full battalion with heavy weapons and an atmospheric fighter squadron, plus 280 naval crew and supplies for a protracted campaign.
He smiled wistfully as he thought of the Guadalcanal. He'
d served on a lot of ships since then, but he still had a soft spot for his first posting. She'd been blown to plasma in the final stages of Operation Achilles, the worst military disaster in Alliance history, but she'd gone down fighting and taken a couple enemy ships with her.
He was standing in the control center staring at a bank of monitors, watching the activity in the bays of the Pendragon and the other five transports holding his brigade. His first wave was about to launch. As always, it made him uneasy not being bolted into one of those landers, but he'd been told in no uncertain terms that a colonel did not go down in the first assault. He didn't suppose it was any different now that he was filling in as an acting brigadier general. He obeyed General Holm's orders, but it still pissed him off to be standing there when his men were going into battle. Even simulated battle.
At least that political officer was leaving him alone. Cain did his best to do as General Holm had asked, and he'd actually managed to get along with Captain Warren or, more accurately, he pretended to get along with him. Warren was full of suggestions on how to better handle the troops day to day, but he seemed willing to step aside when they were actually fighting...or pretend fighting at least.
Cain sighed. These were only wargames, but men and women would die anyway. You didn't land 3,600 troops from space under combat conditions - even simulated combat conditions - without taking losses. Accidents and mechanical failures would claim their toll. He knew this training session would save lives later, when his troops were attacking enemies that fired back with real weapons. He knew it intellectually, but that wasn't going to make it any easier when he got the first fatality report. Erik Cain had led thousands of troops, but he still had trouble dealing with the ghosts of those who didn't come back. Sleep was a sporadic thing for Cain, and it was at night he usually hosted his old comrades. They held a place for him in Valhalla; he knew that. One day, brothers, he thought grimly. One day when there is less work to do.