“You cost the Fleet ten Devastators, Roark. And a handful of Falcons to boot.” Winters furrowed his brow, but in his eyes, I saw him mentally working through the concept I’d presented.
“Yes, sir. The Devastators were not properly deployed at the start of the engagement. That is my fault, but with proper armament loads, they could have stood a better chance against the Styrahi fighters.”
Winters nodded. “Maybe. You’re inferring, however, that with properly armed aircraft, the result would have been different?”
I swallowed. “Yes, sir. Had I been given the opportunity to actually command the effort rather than taking the Golden BB, I think it would have been different.”
Winters almost smiled. “The kill ratios used by Exercise Control are valid, Trainee.”
“Respectfully, sir, if they are programmed by the same technicians who clearly manipulated the data systems on the instructor squadron’s aircraft throughout my training program, they are not. We are setting our pilots up for chaos should the balloon actually go up. I’d planned to file a report with Exercise Control upon landing, sir.” Master Sergeant Veer’s report opened up the ability to report my suspicions without compromising Lily or my identity. The Skyhawk, I was reasonably sure, still had the proper data stored aboard.
Winters looked away. “That problem is being dealt with, Trainee.”
I hoped he would look into the broader exercise parameters.
General Singer turned to Whelan and pointed at my friend’s face with a crooked finger. “Tell me in one sentence why you should keep your command, Colonel.”
I saw a fire light in Whelan’s eyes. “Taking my command away would be penalizing me for wanting to fight with everything at my disposal, sir.”
“The minute you called Broken Arrow, you were out of finite control. This trainee convinced you that he could lend you support. You’re a disgrace, Whelan. You gave up!” Singer’s voice was beyond a screech at the end. I wondered how the man would be able to talk much longer.
“With respect, sir, you took away my supporting attack and diverted artillery fire from my attack routes the minute I ran into resistance. How could I be expected to win with odds at ten or eleven Styrahi vehicles to every one of mine?” Whelan somehow managed to keep his military bearing despite Singer’s rage.
“That doesn’t matter. You are a commander in my Terran Defense Force, and that means you do exactly what I tell you to do and nothing more. I had complete control of the situation! Finite control, Colonel! Or don’t they teach that in the Academy of Europe?”
I spoke up without thinking. “From a thousand kilometers away, behind a computer console with a hot cup of coffee and some doughnuts, no doubt believing that you had control. I had control from above the situation and could clearly see what was happening. Given a little more time and realistic performance parameters, Colonel Whelan’s tanks would have been through the Styrahi line and in their headquarters.”
“That’s enough, Roark,” Admiral Winters said. His face was stony and serious, but he tilted his chin just enough to shut my mouth, which had to have been his intention. Much more, and I would make the situation worse.
<
Singer took the opportunity to get in my face again. His crazy brown eyes glared at me. “You think you know what needed to be done just because you were there?”
I nodded. “Paraphrasing, sir, a wise man once said that the forward commander is always right and the commander in the rear is always wrong.”
“We saw the operating picture, Trainee. We knew more than you. There was no way you could punch that line with the forces you had under your pseudocommand.”
“But he did,” General Faraa said. “General Singer, please. None of your forces have come close to breaching the Valley of the Damned in three days nor any Styrahi strongpoint since this exercise was created.”
Singer grinned savagely. “In a real situation, we’d breach your lines. Just takes time and bodies.”
Admiral Winters cleared his throat, and Admiral LeConté appeared to be studying the Martian sunset through the windows with exceptional focus.
“You don’t have enough troops to expend in a war of attrition, General,” Faraa said. “With more casualties than any army in history, you might penetrate the lines. Grey defenses are predicated on risk. You cannot simply throw forces at it. What Trainee Roark suggested was working.”
“You don’t know that,” Singer replied. “Considering any degree of success is presumptuous at best.”
General Faraa studied me for a moment. Her eyes glimmered, and a small smile touched the sides of her mouth. “Trainee, given your take on the situation and initial plan, what would it have taken to break the defensive line and penetrate the Styrahi defensive zone?”
I was talking almost before I realized it. “Ma’am, a squadron of dedicated, properly armed aircraft, no more than eighteen in total, which would include lift and combat search-and-rescue assets working in tandem with a battalion-sized task force of armored and infantry forces.”
Singer laughed out loud. “Ridiculous!”
Admiral LeConté spoke up. “You’d need dedicated maintenance support as well. A unit like that would consist of three hundred to four hundred personnel. Who commands it?”
You sly bastard. Between him and General Faraa, they’d turned the whole conversation away from burning us at the stake to the doctrinal implications. “An O-6, ideally. Doesn’t matter, Fleet or TDF. There are two deputy commanders, one of each service over their respective formations. You have a staff organization like a headquarters company that runs the command structure.”
Faraa seemed pensive before turning her attention to Singer. “Your future operations plans for this exercise are to avoid a direct contact with us and attempt to draw us into the open for a force on force?”
Singer sputtered. “What? That’s not…”
Admiral Winter nodded. “Yes. That is the current plan.”
Faraa shook her head. “This is the sixth iteration of this exercise. The Terran Defense Force has employed the same table of action every time.”
“We make subtle adjustments to the plan every year. Our planning conferences center on this plan for more than three months in advance.” Singer raised a finger. “Don’t presume to tell me that we’ve never been successful. We have made significant forward progress every year.”
Faraa shook her head. “And we are not stupid, General. You’ve only cut your casualty forecasts by a percentage point in the last three years. You’ve expended more ammunition, fuel, and lives than the TDF could keep up with in any contact situation. If this were a real attack, Earth would fall in less than three days without copious assistance from your allies.”
Her matter-of-fact statement stunned me.
Lily chimed to life again. <
Admiral LeConté cleared his throat. “Sir, might I suggest a test?”
Singer squinted. “You’re not giving serious thought to this trainee’s plan, are you?”
“This isn’t a matter of wisdom from the mouths of babes.” He glanced at me. “We all know that coordinated air and ground forces made a significant difference at Libretto. We’ve been lazy by failing to find a way to full integrate the two, even slipping back to pure service-oriented focus points. There are times, respectfully, when it appears we cannot find our collective asses with both hands, a map, and a compass. Maybe this is a step in the right direction.”
Faraa nodded at me. “If we changed no variables to the defensive plan, how fast could you put together a plan and initiate it?”
I glanced at Whelan. “Twenty-four ho
urs.” I thought we could do it faster, but I wanted to mitigate as many threat options as possible.
Whelan nodded. “I’ll volunteer the 73rd Tank Battalion, sir.”
Singer raised a hand to his face and rubbed his forehead. “This takes place outside of the exercise structure but with the same rules in place.”
Faraa shook her head. “No. This is as real as we can get without using real ammunition. Doctrinal employment across the board, General. I want to see what your forces, specifically Trainee Roark and Colonel Whelan, can do against a Grey strongpoint defense.”
“I’ll personally select the aircraft and aircrews to assist the attack,” LeConté added. “We’ll ensure that the tempo and conduct of the exercise is uninterrupted. Shift the focus to the western plains instead. I believe, sir, this is worth a test. We’ve been trying the same old things for years and had no real progress. If this fails, it won’t hamper our current operations. If it succeeds, it merits consideration far beyond your command.”
His comments weren’t lost on me. LeConté had artfully dangled a promotion-worthy opportunity in front of Singer that was based entirely on what we did in the next two days. The man was brilliant.
Singer actually nodded and stopped himself. “There are sixteen days left in this exercise. You want a one-day attempt to change Terran Defense Force tactics that have been successful for the last twenty-five years.”
No one corrected the fact that in the twenty-five years since the Great War, allied forces had mainly dealt with peace disruptions in the Outer Rim, where their opponents rarely showed combat power, initiative, or serious determination. Occasional skirmishes with the Greys, fought with the same old tactics, always ended badly for allied forces, but that didn’t matter to the military minds on Earth. The TDF was drunk on success earned illegitimately, and it would indeed cost them in the future.
Faraa nodded. “If you are concerned about resources, I will be happy to provide them to the…” She squinted at me. “To what, Trainee Roark? What would you call this ad hoc unit?”
“Reaction squadron, General Faraa. The intent is to react quickly, decisively engage the enemy, and hold ground only until conventional forces can take over the mission. After that, the squadron would be ready within twelve hours to do it all again.”
“How would you define success for this exercise?” Faraa asked.
I paused for a second as the pieces fit into place. “Integration of command structures, delivery of weapons and assets to the right places at the right times, and first-line penetration of the strongpoint.”
“You’re being conservative.” Singer chuckled. “You think this will fail, too.”
“It’s completely untested, sir. I met Colonel Whelan last night in the Brass Anchor. Given a full day, I’m optimistic the two of us would be more successful, but adding in the rest of the force amplifies the variables.” Hedging my bet was the only real response. If I said much more, there would be ammunition for Singer to further change the stakes of the exercise to make our efforts futile. Having a chance to play this out meant I had to play it soft. But there was no doubt in my mind we could break the Styrahi line and overrun their strongpoint defense.
Singer sneered. “You think it will fail, Trainee. I can see it all over your face.”
“I’m being realistic, sir. Twenty-four hours for a test will be promising, but it won’t change the world. With proper training and employment, I believe a force like this could change the nature of forward combat.”
“How? By hitting and running?” Singer shook his head. “How do you know your enemy at that point, Trainee?”
In wars where the enemy wore a similar face to one’s allies, knowing the enemy was impossible. With humanity united for the defense of Earth, we knew who the enemy was. There was no “hearts and minds” campaign. This was simple warfare. They wanted to take Earth and feed. I wasn’t going to let them. For the first time, I believed there were others out there just like me—and we could defeat the Greys.
“Unless we meet the enemy and honor the threat they present,” I said, “we cannot expect peace to last. Someone will always rise up to challenge it. This is about how we can defeat the enemy, sir. I think it’s possible with a much smaller force than we traditionally deploy.”
Singer walked away, even clasping his hands behind his back for a moment like a proper Englishman. The commandant glanced at me and nodded once. General Faraa almost smiled. After a full minute of tense silence, Singer turned toward us.
“Twenty-four hours. Admiral LeConté, you are the de facto commander of this exercise subset. I propose that you and General Faraa act as the Exercise Control for adjudication of losses and gains. I will want a full report within twenty-four hours after the exercise is over.” The crazy look in his eyes was gone, but he was still angry. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was really mad at us or someone else entirely.
“Terran Defense Force tactical prowess is not something I take lightly, gentlemen. For what it’s worth, even a stirring success will not change my mind. Still, I would rather teach a valuable lesson to you both now.” He sneered at Whelan. “One of you has served honorably for more than ten years. The other is an upstart trainee who thinks his way is better. One of you should have turned the other cheek and walked away. It will cost you any chance at a star, Colonel.”
Whelan nodded. “I never wanted a star, General. I wanted a chance to win when the Greys came back.”
“Did you?” Singer laughed, probably in an attempt to be condescending and sarcastic. It came across pained and weak, as if he’d known the truth all along. “When you fail, I will counsel you personally, Colonel Whelan. As for you, Trainee Roark”—he raised a finger at me—“enjoy the last days of your service. I expect to make a full report to the chief of fleet operations on your insubordination and attempts to subvert the TDF command structure. You are all dismissed.” He turned his back on us.
The commandant glanced at General Faraa, his mouth open. Singer turning his back on the Styrahi commanding general had been an egregious slight. Faraa met the commandant’s eyes and shook her head, gesturing us out of the commanding general’s chamber. She looked back at Singer, barely contained anger rippling beneath her ethereally pretty face, then nodded at me and smiled. She said a brief goodbye to Whelan and me before she and Admiral LeConté disappeared down the corridor.
Whelan gave me a wry grin. “That was fun.”
I laughed. “C’mon. We’ve got some work to do.”
As we headed down the corridor, I thought about Singer’s parting shot. If we failed, I’d at least be home with the woman I loved and my friends. But something told me that was just a dream now.
<
Read it to me, Lily.
<
As if I had any other choice.
Admiral LeConté was as good as his word. Within an hour, I had three four-aircraft flights assigned. Four Ospreys would be the primary close-air-support players. The four Falcons would serve as the primary interceptors tasked with keeping the Styrahi aircraft at bay while the four Devastators would play their jack-of-all-trades role to the letter. Two of them would play HICAP as a high-altitude combat air patrol circling us at twenty thousand meters, and two of them would be heavily loaded for surgical-strike missions. Combined with the Rhinos used to drop or move Whelan’s battalion, I had seventeen aircraft on the team, and the collective morale of the pilots, especially those with an attack pedigree, was high.
I couldn’t say the same for the TDF forces, other than Colonel Whelan. He bought into the idea, but the troops believed it was another suicide mission. Exercise or not, they were tired as hell of the whole charade. We deployed the Rhinos to bring in 80 percent of the force, leaving the others to guard the equi
pment overnight. Having so many people involved in the planning process, no matter their experience, was a technique to ensure that the official plan was disseminated as far down the chain of command as possible.
I found Whelan in his quarters, reviewing the proposed plan, after a late dinner. “How’s it going?” I asked.
There was a high degree of doubt and disbelief on Whelan’s face. “I researched some of your terms. AirLand battle doctrine was implemented in the late 1980s and proven a viable doctrinal solution for Operation Desert Shield and Storm in the 1990s. What are you not telling me?”
<
I sighed and tried to come up with a lie, but it wouldn’t come together. “I had the idea a long time ago. I went back to find the doctrinal references to make it work together.”
“You speak it like a second language.” He shook his head. “I don’t have the time to learn this as effectively as you have.”
The breath I’d held came out slowly. Either I’d gotten away with my explanation for the time being, or he was even surer that I was something other than what I seemed to be. Whelan was a stand-up guy, but my orders from Crawley were ironclad. As much as I wanted to tell him, I couldn’t. “The principles are simple. Focus on agility and retaining our initiative. I’ll hit the Styrahis deep. The rest of it is timing and precision—all things that are in our wheelhouse.”
Whelan nodded. I could picture him doing the math. If we were able to hit the enemy at several different points and take away their ability to respond coherently to a single threat from a single direction, we stood a chance of storming the valley.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m briefing the battalion in eight hours. We’re in crew maintenance right now. Figure I’ll get some sleep for a bit and be fresh to go over this with the troops.”
An idea struck me. “Would you like me to be there?”
Whelan’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Really? You’d attend an operations briefing with a bunch of dumb grunts?” He grinned.
Vendetta Protocol Page 21