House of Steel: The Honorverse Companion (19 page)

Some other interesting bits and pieces were emerging from the effort, as well. Sonja, for example, was intrigued by the implications of something she’d tentatively christened a “grav lance,” although it looked to Jonas like something which would be useful mainly for capital ships that managed to get to knife-fighting range of one another. He couldn’t really see anything lighter than a waller being able to make much use of it, but he was more than willing to let Sonja run with it.

The critical point, though, was that despite everything, it looked as if they might very well actually make Mjølner work after all. There were still more obstacles than he liked to think about, but he was confident his people on
Weyland
would overcome them in the end. And if they did—
when
they did—nothing would ever be the same again. Mjølner’s range would be incredible, its attack velocities unlike anything the galaxy’s navies had ever seen, its energy budget—and the penetration-aiding electronic warfare that would make possible—would make it far, far harder to intercept or spoof, and the new laser heads would be many times as destructive as any existing capital missile, even the RMN’s current weapons. It truly would complete what the laser head had begun and shatter the centuries-old, short-ranged, energy weapon combat model which had gripped galactic warfare for as long as anyone could remember once and for all.

And it can’t possibly be carried aboard any current design of capital ship,
he thought.
Not in sufficient numbers, at any rate; not even
my
boys and girls are going to squeeze it down into something that’ll change
that
minor problem! Which means we’re going to have to completely rethink hull forms, weapons tonnages, launch methods and mechanisms, and ammunition stowage, just for a start. I’m thinking those new lightweight LAC launchers might be part of the answer, at least in the short term. Build ourselves an
offensive
version of the system defense missile pods and use it as a strap on, or tractor it astern or something, at least for an interim approach. We’ll have to come up with something better in the long run though. Defining a new, workable operational doctrine’s going to be a big enough pain in the ass all by itself, but I’m willing to bet we’re going to have to redesign the ship-of-the-wall from the keel out, too, and then we’re going to have to find the wherewithal to
build
the damned things.And Roger was right; no one at BuWeaps or BuShips had a clue what was about to be thrown at them. If, on the other hand, there was a single man in the RMN who did
have a clue . . .

“What exactly do you have in mind?” he asked.

“I’ve already talked to Castle Rock and Styler,” Roger replied. “Sometime early next year, they’re going to create a new command—we’re calling it the Weapons Development Board—and you’re going to be in charge of it. It’ll be based in Manticore Beta, aboard
Weyland
, so it’ll still be as much out-of-sight, out-of-mind as we can keep it, and if we can convince the newsies to think it’s more makework for a beloved but not that bright brother-in-law, so much the better. You
will
be being bounced directly to flag rank—vice admiral of the red—when you take over as CO, I’m afraid. In fact, I’ve already signed your promotion, but we’ve classified it under the Official Secrets Act, at least for now. As far as anyone outside a certain very select circle is concerned, you’ll still be a mere captain holding an acting commodore’s slot as a way to let Angelique and me funnel a few extra perks and a better pension in your direction.”

“I suppose I should be accustomed to being a drone by now,” Jonas observed with a dry smile, and Roger chuckled.

“We’ve all worked hard enough to convince the galaxy at large that you are one, at any rate!”

“And the duties of this new entity would be—?”

“I’m not sure whether it’s ultimately going to have to find a home under the BuShips or the BuWeaps umbrella, but for right now, it’s not going to belong to either. You’ll still be working out of Admiral Rodriguez’s office, officially, but your real job is going to be to start creating the liaison between BuShips and BuWeaps we’re going to need to move the new systems from pure research into development and then into volume production as early as possible. You’ll be doing as much of the work as you can from
Weyland
, if only because our security arrangements there have been worked out in so much depth, but eventually you’re going to have to have ‘branch offices’ aboard
Vulcan
and
Hephaestus
, as well. And in addition to the purely hardware side of things, you’re also going to be responsible for developing tactics and operational doctrine to
use
the new systems.”

“I see.”

Jonas considered for a moment, then shrugged.

“I won’t pretend I’m happy about the thought of giving up Gram. On the other hand, I see your logic, and I believe that somewhere around here it says that since you’re the King, we all get to do things your way, anyway.” He smiled briefly. “How much freedom am I going to have to request personnel?”

“Probably not as much as you’d like, at least initially.” Roger made a face. “Obviously we’re going to have to bring in additional manpower, which’ll mean expanding the number of people who have at least some idea of what Gram’s been working on all this time. We need to be careful about how we do that, though. And once anybody disappears into this Weapons Development Board, he won’t be being released to the general population again anytime soon. We may have to make some exceptions here and there, and we’re going to want people with the shooter’s perspective in this up to their elbows, of course, but the security requirements are going to remain paramount for the foreseeable future, as well. We’ll have to go public with it eventually, at least within the Service, if it’s going to do its job, but I don’t want to do that one instant before we have to. Call me paranoid, but I
really
don’t want this leaking to the Peeps until we’ve got the hammer we need to hit them so hard they don’t get up again. Why? Is there someone in particular you think you’d like?”

“I was thinking about young Alexander, as a matter of fact,” Jonas admitted. “I understand he’s just about finished with his current tour at BuPlan. The thought of getting him into harness with Sonja would probably make Sisyphus cringe, but this sounds like something we could really, really use his brain on, Roger. And you know a lot of senior officers’re going to have major reservations about such radically new hardware. They know what already works, and they’re going to fight like hell against risking the loss of proven weapon systems in favor of a batch of new, half-baked ideas which may end up not working and get us all killed, as a result. But Alexander’s broadly enough respected that if we can get
him
signed on, it’ll help enormously with the fleet’s acceptance in general.”

“Um.”

Roger frowned, sipping more whiskey and looking into space while he considered. He sat that way for several moments, then blinked and refocused on Jonas.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, “but my initial thought is that we need him elsewhere even worse.” He raised his free hand, forestalling any protest Jonas might have made. “God knows you’re right about how good he is and how respected he is, and he’s hit the ground running ever since he went back on active duty.”

The King’s expression went briefly bleak, recalling the horrendous air car accident which had crippled Lady Emily Alexander . . . and very nearly destroyed Hamish Alexander’s naval career as he went on to half-pay in his desperately determined battle to somehow reverse the verdict of his beloved wife’s catastrophic damage. He’d failed. Emily Alexander—actress, equestrienne, tennis player, and one of the Star Kingdom’s most beloved public figures—would never leave her life-support chair again. The fact that she’d confronted that truth, accepted the physical wasteland her future had become, without even a trace of surrender—that she’d already become one of Manticore’s premier HD producers, now that she could no longer take the stage herself—had only made her even more beloved, and she’d had the strength to encourage her husband’s return to active duty, as well.

“The problem is, we
do
need him where he is, at the moment, and we need to get him rotated back through active fleet command ASAP, as well,” Roger continued. “Your job is going to be to produce the next generation of weapons and the ships and doctrine we need to make them work. In the meantime, though, we have to have the very best commanders and doctrine we can get with
existing
weapons systems, and that describes Hamish perfectly. Eventually, we’ll have to bring him on board, but for now, I think he’ll be even more valuable to us in more . . . conventional roles. And let’s face it, Jonas. You and I are busy planning for a future war in which Gram’s weapons could prove decisive, but we can’t be remotely certain the Peeps will hold off that long. One of the reasons I’m going to be talking to Hector Ramirez is my hope that a united front with San Martin will cause the Peeps to back off, buy us the time to get the Weapons Development Board fully up and running and actually bring the new systems to a deployable level. If it doesn’t, though—if the Peeps don’t blink, and do go ahead and pull the trigger—we’ll have to fight with the ships and weapons we already have, and we’ll need someone who can use those weapons as effectively as humanly possible. Again, that describes Hamish perfectly. So the bottom line is that I simply can’t spare him at this time.”

“But you think I can probably have him at some point in the future?” Jonas pressed.

“Assuming we’re
not
actively at war with the People’s Republic, yes,” Roger said dryly.

“Good. I’ll hold you to that,” Jonas warned.

“Thanks for the warning.”

Roger smiled, then glanced at his chrono and made another face. This one was considerably more cheerful than the last one, Jonas noticed.

“Well,” the King stood, setting his empty whiskey glass on an end table, “I hate to drink and run, but Angel’s waiting for me.”

“Really?” Jonas stood as well. “Where are the two of you off to? I thought we were having supper together tonight?”

“Oh, we are,” Roger reassured him. “But not here. In fact, we’re—”

He broke off as the study door opened and Elizabeth stepped through it. The King’s eyebrows rose, and his daughter laughed.

“I bribed Captain Trevor to let me burst in on you without notice, Dad,” she said, then stepped past her father to hug Jonas tightly. “They told me you were here, Uncle Jonas, and I wanted to be sure I got to see you before you disappeared back off to the Admiralty again. Especially since I won’t be seeing you at supper tonight.”

“You won’t?” Jonas returned her embrace, then stood back, smiling at her. “And what have I done to offend you, Your Highness?”

She laughed again, the treecat on her shoulder tilting his head to regard Jonas with matching amusement.

“You haven’t done a thing,” she assured him. “Except for being guilty of bad timing, anyway. Mom and Dad are off to the Indigo Salt Flats for a little overdue recreation before heading off to Trevor’s Star.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Jonas said, looking across at Roger, and the King shrugged.

“We’ve kept it quiet. Angel and I are both worn out getting ready for this trip—especially her, I’m afraid.” He shook his head, his brown eyes softening with the memory of all Angelique had put up with since wedding him. “No newsies, no press, no guests—just the two of us. Well, and you, for supper. Possibly Michael, too . . . assuming he’s on speaking terms with me.”

“Bad?” Jonas asked.

“No worse than usual.” Roger rolled his eyes. “God, I love that boy, but there
are
times . . .”

“He’ll get over it, Dad,” Elizabeth assured him.

“And
you
won’t be joining us because—?” Jonas inquired, and Roger laughed.

“Jonas, you’d better get used to it,” the King said when his brother-in-law glanced back at him. “Ever since she and young Zyrr announced their engagement, she’s taken every opportunity she can find to drag him off to some glitzy nightspot somewhere. Yes, and
pretended
she was just studying for
exams
with him.” Roger shook his head, his expression mournful. “She thinks she’s actually fooling her soft-headed old dad, too. It’s sad, when you think about it.”

“You need to work on making your lower lip quiver properly, Dad,” his undutiful daughter said critically. “And, no, I don’t think I’m fooling you and Mom a bit, given the way Security keeps an eye on all of us. Not to mention the fact that I know
you
know perfectly well that Justin really is helping me study for finals. Or the fact that I happen to know you get along with him just fine yourself.”

“Respect,” Roger sighed. “It says somewhere in the Constitution, that the King is supposed to be spoken to with respect. I
know
it does.”

“By everyone except his family, Dad,” Elizabeth said, rising slightly on her toes to kiss his cheek and smiling at him. “But Justin really is waiting for me, and I’ve got to run, that’s the real reason I interrupted you and Uncle Jonas. I already talked to Mom, and I wouldn’t keep her waiting, if I were you.” She shook her head, brown eyes gleaming. “She’s
really
looking forward to this.”

“I know—I know!” Roger said repentantly. “She puts up with a lot.”

“Oh, it’s not
all
bad, Roger,” Jonas told him.

“No, it isn’t,” Elizabeth agreed. “And let me know how that new grav ski works!”