Trail of Evil - eARC (26 page)

Chapter 38

March 12, 2407 AD

61 Ursae Majoris

31 Light-years from the Sol System

Sunday, 5:55 PM, Expeditionary Mission Standard Time

“Well, all I can say, sir, is that it is a tactic, or, eh, a strategy that hopefully the aliens haven’t thought of yet,” DeathRay told Alexander.

“Or perhaps they have long forgotten it or decided it was too small a threat to consider,” Nancy added.

Alexander wasn’t sure where they were going with the conversation, but after two weeks of studying the data handed over by Madira he hoped that somebody had come up with a strategy. He looked out the window of the “living room” of the
Hillenkoetter
. Nancy had been true to her word when she said she was going to make it a home. The lavish Victorian-style furnishings were so different from military style and function that one could almost forget where they were. But the view outside the window immediately brought Alexander back to the reality that he was in a starship over thirty light-years from home and contemplating going even farther out—much farther out.

Several squadrons of mecha were engaged in combat training and were flying madly about chasing each other’s energy vectors about space. There were mecha squadrons from the
Madira
chasing others from the 61 Ursae Majoris military. They were learning how to fight together. Moore leaned back in the high-backed green and mauve chair and almost laughed at the contrast.

“Okay, okay, what small threat are you talking about?” he asked.

“We are clearly going to be fighting an asymmetric war with the Chiata. So, we should follow ancient asymmetric warfare tactics,” Nancy explained. “Just like the Afghans did during the war with the Soviet Union in the late twentieth century.”

“Or the Spartans at Thermopylae,” DeathRay added.

“The Spartans died, Jack,” Nancy frowned at him. “The American Revolution is a better example. The first Martian Separatist movement is as well. The Boer War between the British and the South Africans is another. There are hundreds of examples throughout history of a smaller force holding off or at least pissing off a larger force. But the point is, General Moore, that we need to strike targets hard, violently, in as visually horrific ways as possible, and get in and get out as quickly as possible. And we need to keep doing it until we make the aliens tired of dealing with us.”

“Either that or they will decide to accelerate their timetable and eradicate us as quickly as they can,” Moore added. “But the strategies used on both sides at Thermopylae might be of use.”

“How so, sir?” Nancy asked. “Would you like some more wine?”

“No, thanks. While I’m off duty right this second, I’m never really off duty.” He shrugged. “To answer your question though, the Spartans, Greeks, Thebans, and the others on the low side of the engagement used a small passage to bottleneck the Persian army so that they couldn’t use all of their might at once. We need a bottleneck.”

“Yes, sir,” DeathRay added. “We force them from a ball to a bowl and the fight breaks down into a close-quarter knife fight. The tankheads and AEMs would love that.”

Alexander understood the mecha jock lingo and it was in essence his point. And perhaps that was the key to space navy battles. One needed to maximize the benefit of being in a ball or bowl type engagement. Moore filed that for further thought.

“The other piece, sir?” Nancy asked.

“Well, the Persians found a secret pass around the bottleneck and sent an overwhelming force to sneak in behind the smaller force. The Spartans were trapped between two larger forces in a perfect kill box,” Moore explained. “So, how the hell do we set that up against an overwhelming and technologically superior force? How do we create a bottleneck in space? How do we lure the enemy into it? And how do we find a secret passage around the bottleneck to trap them in a kill box?”

“Well, sir,” DeathRay pondered out loud. “They don’t have QMTs. There’s our secret passage right there. We can outrun them anywhere. We can go three light-years in a second. Using the jaunt speeds the Chiata can only travel about a seventh of an AU per second. It would take them about seven seconds to go from Sol to the Earth or between Earth and Mars for example. And to go all the way out to the Oort Cloud at that speed would take about five to six days.”

“That is brilliant, Boland.” Nancy was impressed by her husband. “Our QMT snap-back and sling-forward algorithms would certainly give us a serious advantage there even if we were outgunned.”

“This is very important,” Alexander rolled strategies and tactics around in his mind for a brief instant. His years of combat experience and military training was coalescing into at least the spark of a strategy for their initial target. “We need to get the seniors into a strategy meeting and flesh this out. I want to include Madira and whoever her seniors are as well. Hold one.”

Alexander held a hand up and thought to his AIC.
Abby set up a full on strategy and battle planning session with the seniors from CDC, the bridge, and air and ground segments. Have the chief of staff send an invite for the Madira and her counterparts to attend. No later than twelve hundred tomorrow.

Yes sir
.

“You two keep thinking on this.”

“We will, sir.” Jack replied to them both.

“We also need to think of this as a long-term engagement with a bunch of rapid short-term ones. I doubt there will ever be time to get ground down in a long-term infantry fight like on Mars.” DeathRay added. “Do we believe we could ever hold a hill, sir?”

“I don’t know, Jack. I just don’t know.” Moore stood and adjusted his UCU top. “Thanks for the hospitality. But I think I need to think on this even more. We need a very sound plan before I can go to the White House with this. Keep at it you two.”

“Sir,” Nancy stopped him before he could QMT back to the
Madira II
.

“Yes?”

“Have you considered Sienna Madira’s request to man the fleet with her AI clones? We could really improve the numbers game and I’d like to have a minimal crew over here.” Nancy said.

“I think it is time we address that elephant in the room,” Moore said. Her being a civilian made it difficult for him to order her to do anything. Her not being a military fleet captain but in charge of a fleet ship added even more issues. On top of that, now the ship would seriously be needed for combat and she was wanting a military crew. Moore wasn’t sure what to do about it. “I think we need to consider having a military captain for this ship.”

“This is my ship, sir. And with all due respect, sir. This is
my
ship.” Nancy stood. She didn’t take her gaze from Moore. He knew she would react this way, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“It would be different if you had some previous military training in your background that we could point to. But, as it stands . . .” Moore shrugged. “I’m at a loss. I know I promised you this ship and the fleet when we were finished with them, but you must see that we need every weapon we can grasp our hands around right now.”

“Sir, what was the first order that you as president signed following the end of the Seppy War?” Nancy asked him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Moore was growing impatient, but he also knew that Nancy did things almost as planned out as Sienna Madira had. She was up to something.

“The first major order you signed, sir?”

“It’s in the history books, Nancy. You know it as well as almost everyone does.” Moore was confused where she was going with this. “The Tau Ceti Accords. That is the first thing I signed into law upon my return to the White House.”

“Yes sir. And what did TCA 45678.22 say, sir?” She asked still standing and still staring him down.

“Uh, 45678.22,” he paused.

Abby?

Tau Ceti Accords line 45678.22 put into law the joining of the Separatist military with the U.S. Military, sir. Specifically, it brought any current enlisted, warrants, or officers into the military with full rank and priveledge to the same or an equivalent if they desired and could find a job. Otherwise, the provision allowed for full honorable discharge from their equivalent rank and all rights and responsibilities accompanied with them.

Right, I got it.
Moore thought.
Thanks.

“I can see from the expression on your face that you have consulted Abigail and that you know the provision I’m addressing?” Nancy asked.

“Yes, I do, but I’m not certain how this applies,” Moore said.

“Allison, upload the specifics of the last five years of my mission on Tau Ceti to Abigail please,” Nancy said. “Sir, please note that the upload is an official mission brief as submitted and filed upon my return to Sol space. The mission documents are available if you need to verify them.”

“Okay, stop.” Moore didn’t have to go through all of this. He trusted Nancy with his life. Even more, he trusted her with his daughter’s life on several occasions. “Just cut to the chase. I trust you dotted the Is and crossed the Ts.”

“Very well, sir. As my last mission on Tau Ceti before the rescue of your daughter from Elle Ahmi I was Separatist Navy Mecha Pilot Ensign Bella Penrose of the Separatist Nation Contingent, New Tharsis Division. The Separatist records show I was trained in military flight school and was commissioned as such. After the battle at Tau Ceti Bella was assumed MIA and likely KIA and was posthumously given the rank of lieutenant junior grade. As that was over twenty years ago, my service and record should have been corrected and updated to present military status. From considerations of back pay and other promotion potential being missed, sir, I estimate that I should be at a minimum the rank of Navy commander if not captain, sir. I could also point to other missions where I was other military ranks as well. I’ve been trained, sir. I can do the job.”

“No shit.” Alexander couldn’t help but laugh. He had signed the law himself that would let him slay his pink elephant. If she wanted it slain. “Nancy, are you asking to have your rank reverted and to be activated?”

“This is
my
ship, sir. Nobody is taking it from me. If I have to take a Navy rank to help you complete the mission I promised I’d see through with you and your family, then that is what I will do, sir.” Nancy said.

“Nancy, are you sure you want to do that?” DeathRay looked at the two of them. Moore could tell by his expression that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Alexander wasn’t concerned if Nancy could soldier up or not. He’d been with Nancy in a fight and she was damned good at it on the ground, in a suit, in mecha, hell, anywhere. But Nancy was a free spirit, a lone wolf. Alexander’s biggest concern was if she would take orders.

“If it is what I have to do to keep this ship as mine and to see this invasion through, then that is what I will do.” Nancy was serious, dead serious, and Moore could see it in her face.

“We’ll make it happen.” Moore smiled and then tapped his wristband. “Thank you for the hospitality. I’ll see the two of you tomorrow at noon.” The room flashed and buzzed and he was gone.

Deanna was glad to have a few moments off. She had been wargaming and flying maneuvers pretty much around the clock since they had entered the 61 Ursae Majoris system. The SEAL on the other hand, had been mostly hanging out with AEMs discussing tactics for fighting on asteroids, Kuiper Belt objects, comets, and moons. Mostly, he had nothing to do. Dee had seen to it that he had plenty to do, to her, for the previous hour or so. Their time together had been both physically demanding and relaxing. For the most part they both had just needed to be there for each other. The past month of devastating injuries and recovery and then back to mission business as usual had made the two of them even more dependent familiar and with each other.

Deanna was sitting up and leaning against Rackman’s strong Navy SEAL shoulders and unconsciously rubbing his chest with her right hand. The two of them were in bed looking out the portal in her quarters at the myriad of mecha gyrating and spinning about the fleet. Her grandmother—whom nobody knew was her grandmother but “family”—had deployed her entire system navy out to their original rendezvous location. There were seventy naval vessels with more than thirty of them supercarrier class. Others were frigates and scouts used for smaller, faster, and more tactical activities. Her father had brought in the rest of the fleet from the outer base. Presently, the 61 UM system was a flurry of activity with over a hundred ships moving about and learning how to fly with each other. The number of mecha swarming the larger ships seemed uncountable.

The AICs of the 61 UM system and the master-slave system on the Penzington fleet ships, as they had been calling them, made the multiple fleet ship orchestration simpler than it sounded. Dee watched it all with amusement and amazement. There was something very Zen about it all. It was a cacophony of motion like the balet only with the potential to be much more violent. And to Deanna Moore, it was much more exciting and beautiful.

“I was offered a promotion, Dee,” Rackman said out of the blue. They had been mostly quiet basking in the afterglow of lovemaking and watching mecha. The sudden talk disrupted Dee’s mellow contemplation of it all.

“What? A promotion? About time. When do you get pinned on?” Dee said only half paying attention to him. She was paying more attention to the energy lines the AI clone driven mecha were making compared to the ones with human pilots. She was tracking them in her DTM mindview. The clones seemed to pull the curves tighter and push the reverses faster. It was almost as if they could handle more g-load than the standard mecha jock. One of the Mainiacs, Popstar according to her DTM tracker, was dead to rights bullseyed by two of the clones but then she did a Fokker’s feint. The mecha went to bot mode and then looked as if it had passed out falling head over heels all the while rolling about its body axis. Once the mecha turned upside down to face the two clones on its six, Dee could see the cannon in the mecha’s hands tracking the two clone fighters. They quickly dispersed in opposite directions at g-loads that must have been crushing. Somehow, Dee noted from the red force tracker, the two were not hit and managed to get away. She made a mental note to herself that she needed to think on her attack strategies to allow for those types of maneuvers.