Ep.#15 - "That Which Other Men Cannot Do" (The Frontiers Saga) (19 page)

“You believe
that
strongly that Galiardi will succeed in his efforts?” the Admiral asked.

“I do.”

Admiral Dumar looked at the others, then to President Scott. “Might I speak with you alone, Mister President?”

President Scott looked offended, his eyes narrowing. “These people are my trusted…”

“I would not ask, were it not necessary,” Dumar replied.

President Scott stared at the admiral for a moment, taking note of the determined look on his face. He had not known the admiral for long, and certainly did not know him well, but he knew that his son, Nathan, trusted the admiral implicitly. “Very well.” He looked at his staff. “Everyone, please clear the room.”

The president and the admiral sat quietly as the others rose from their seats without saying a word, and departed the room.

Once the door closed, the president spoke. “What’s on your mind, Admiral?”

“How secure is this room?”

“We are five hundred meters underground. The walls are solid concrete, and there are no internal listening devices,” President Scott explained. “I doubt anywhere on Earth is more secure than this very spot.”

Admiral Dumar sighed. “I have lived a long time, Mister President,” he began. “I have served three different regimes, four, if you count your new coalition of nations. I have been called upon to do many distasteful things, and I have done them all. Not because I enjoy them, but because they were necessary for the greater good. Furthermore, it is what men such as myself were created to do.”

“What are you getting at, Admiral?”

“You have a problem, one that I can make go away, if so ordered.”

“You’re talking about Admiral Galiardi?”

Admiral Dumar nodded his head.

“What are you suggesting? Assassination?”

“It is a tool, like any other. One used to accomplish a goal.”

“And how do we explain that to his followers?”

“He has Corinairan nanites still within him, does he not? It would be relatively easy to command them to cause a heart attack, or a stroke of some sort.”

“And start more controversy?”

“There will always be controversy, Mister President.”

President Scott sighed, displeased with the idea. “I have been the victim of an assassination attempt, Admiral. I can’t say I liked it much. I don’t know that I’m ready to take that step just yet.”

“I understand.”

“Besides, having the Alliance involved in the assassination of a Terran citizen would be too risky.”

“Agreed.”

“I appreciate your candor, Admiral,” the president said. “If—and that is a big ‘if’—I decide to use that ‘tool’, as you put it, I’m sure I can find someone not affiliated with the military to perform the task.”

“I would expect so,” the admiral agreed.

President Scott stood. “I appreciate your time here today, Admiral, and your advice. I will take all of it to heart, I assure you.”

“As will I, yours, Mister President,” Admiral Dumar replied as he stood to depart.

CHAPTER SIX

Captain Nash made his way through the nearly completed Cobra Operations Center on the small asteroid moon orbiting Tanna. The caverns themselves had been relatively quick to create, thanks to the engineers provided by the Karuzara asteroid base. The interior structures and equipment had taken a bit longer to fabricate than expected. Due to the demands of the gunship assembly plant, there were few fabricators available.

Luckily, someone in planning had been smart enough to spend the first few weeks making additional fabricators. Eventually, they got enough of them assembled to not only build the new extension to the old Jung fighter base, but they now had the ability to create spare parts for the Cobra gunships.

The facility had everything they needed to support the continuous operation of at least twenty-four gunships. It currently had only twelve docking ports, but construction of another row of twelve was under way. In addition, they were also planning on carving out four caverns to be used as dry docks, in order to perform maintenance and repairs in shirt-sleeve, zero-G environments.

Their hope was to eventually operate a guard fleet of forty-eight ships, using seventy-two crews. This would allow them to maintain an adequate border patrol, while having plenty of ships to defend their system, should the Jung return.

In a few days, the twelfth gunship would be delivered. Captain Nash’s first four crews were doing well, and had entered the advanced tactical combat phase of their training. The second group of four gunship crews was just finishing up basic flight, and the third group was still in the sims. However, everything seemed to be progressing smoothly, and his staff had finally developed an easily repeatable process of turning wide-eyed young men into well-trained gunship crews.

Despite his initial disappointment with his assignment, Robert Nash had actually grown to enjoy it. The Tannans were passionate people, willing to study and train hard. They were also polite to a fault, modest, and unassuming. In short, they were a pleasure to be around. More importantly, they believed in what they were doing. The entire planet seemed focused on one goal, to defend their world, and the worlds of the Alliance, against the Jung. Captain Nash had no doubt that if asked, they would fight to the death without hesitation.

One could not help but respect such people.

Although he hated to admit it, Captain Nash was also enjoying the relative calmness of his life as chief instructor. He worked fourteen to sixteen hours a day. But he was sleeping in a very comfortable bed each night, and eating four hot and healthy meals per day. The Tannan food was a bit spicy, but delicious, and they made every meal a celebration of sorts. He even found time on occasion to go back down to the surface and enjoy the outdoors. Tanna had such a stark contrast between its landscapes. Half the planet was barren tundra and desert. But where there was water, it was green and lush, with thick forests filled with all manner of creatures, many of them brought over from Earth a millennium ago when the first settlers had staked their claims on the previously untouched world.

“Captain on deck!” Lieutenant Commander Rano barked as Captain Nash entered the Cobra flight briefing room. The cavern was large enough to hold at least two hundred people, with the seats clustered in groups of six to accommodate the gunship crews. The chairs were comfortable, with small tables that could be folded away if desired. The rows formed wide arcs that faced the front and center of the room, where there was a large view screen, with a lectern off to one side.

“As you were,” Captain Nash said as he stepped up to the lectern. He glanced out at his men. There were only four crews, including his own, for a total of twenty-four men, including himself. The room looked empty, considering it was designed to accommodate thirty-six crews at once. “Gentlemen, today you start your training in advanced combat tactics. More specifically, how to hunt as a group. You have performed simple maneuvers as a group in the past, using simple methods of timing, speed, and precision manual flying. Now we’re going to get really precise. We’re going to use the automated flight control systems, as well as the Relativistic Combat Data Link systems. You all know what the auto-flight systems are. They’re the little orange button that none of you were allowed to touch until you proved that you knew how to manually fly your ships. Well, now you get to use them. In fact, you will probably use them ninety percent of the time from this point forward.” Captain Nash smiled. “Yeah, I know. Sounds boring. You’re right, it is. But it is far more precise than hand-flying, and precision is what we are after when operating in groups.”

Captain Nash picked up his remote and activated the main view screen. A flowchart appeared on the screen. “This is the intermittent combat data link system, or ICDLS. You can call it ‘ick-dills.’ It is designed to share flight and systems status information between linked ships. The intermittent aspect is because it is designed to work in an environment where the time delay between linked ships varies, or is temporarily broken. It uses predictive algorithms to estimate each unlinked ship’s status, adjusting as needed whenever a broken link is restored. It is what enables the lead ship, which for purposes of training will be Cobra One, to monitor the status of all other ships in the linked group, and to relay instructions to them. It uses a combination of repeated command broadcasts and command verification receipts, through standard direct comms, and from miniature comm buoys. This system allows a group of linked ships to use auto-flight to precisely perform any number of pre-programmed attack maneuvers, as indicated by the lead ship in the linked group. In other words, I decide what attack pattern we are going to fly, and it sends the orders to the auto-flight systems in your ships so that they fly the attack pattern I assigned.”

“What if the auto-flight doesn’t receive the command?” Captain Annatah asked.

“No ship will initiate until all ships have verified receipt of the command. Usually, this is accomplished by giving a command during a pass, and then cycling through two or three attack passes, if needed, to get everyone’s verification.”

“If this is all being done by auto-flight, then what do we do?” Captain Harral wondered.

“The auto-flight will take you through the setup, but you will still have to make final course corrections once on the attack run, in order to line up your cannons on target.”

“How is this any better than just flying the patterns manually?” Captain Orel inquired.

“The auto-flight is far more precise than we can ever hope to be,” Captain Nash explained. “The attack patterns that we are going to fly are complex, and are designed to maximize our firepower while minimizing risk. They introduce randomization variables that would be difficult for us to implement, in order to prevent the gunners of the ships we attack from predicting which angle we will next attack from. They turn us into a collection of mobile cannons, always on the move, and always firing from different points in space, yet all firing at the same target. Trust me, it will work better than you could possibly imagine. More importantly, it will keep us from jumping into one another,” he added with a wry smile. “Now, let’s get started. Attack pattern alpha one,” he said, advancing to the next frame on the view screen.

* * *

Nathan stood on the Aurora’s bridge, casually leaning against the side of the tactical console as he chatted with his tactical officer. “I’m not saying it’s not doable,” he continued, “nor am I saying that it’s unwise. What I’m saying is that it may be playing into Galiardi’s cause.”

“Feeding it, you mean,” Jessica commented as she monitored her console.

“Five minutes to attack zero,” Mister Riley announced. “We are now back down to attack speed.”

“Kill your burn,” Nathan ordered.

“Decel burn is off,” Mister Chiles replied. “Holding present course and speed.”

“Yes,
feeding
would be a good word,” Nathan agreed, turning his attention back to Jessica. “Galiardi complains that we are poking the dragon with a stick. An assault on their assets and subsequent liberation of one of their worlds every five days? Anyone would consider that an act of war.”

Jessica looked at him in surprise, as if she couldn’t believe it was really Nathan saying the words. “The Jung did attack us first, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Nathan said dismissively. “I wasn’t inferring that we are not justified in our actions, you know that.”

“Just checking,” Jessica said with a shrug, her gaze returning to her console.

“I’m just questioning whether or not it is the most effective overall strategy, and that depends on what our end game actually is. Is it to destroy the Jung, or is it to protect the Earth and the member systems of the Alliance against further Jung hostilities?”

“The two are not mutually exclusive, you know.”

“Agreed, but take the timing of this campaign, every five days. The timing was chosen based on our production rate of jump KKVs, and how much time we estimate we have before Galiardi can get his petition in front of Congress and force them to act. Why not stop after Delta Pavonis? Why not hold at twenty light years? We don’t know for sure that the Coalition Congress
will
side with Galiardi. They may tell him to go to hell. In the meantime, we could stockpile jump KKVs, jump missiles, Super Eagles…we could even get all three captured ships ready to go.”

“Not to mention twenty or thirty gunships,” Jessica added.

“And what, ten thousand more marines? That’s a lot of force available for liberation campaigns, as well as to defend the member systems we already have.”

“You’re starting to sound a lot like Galiardi,” Jessica commented, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“A lot of what he says makes sense.”

“Then you agree with him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Nathan replied. “One side doesn’t have to be wrong for the other side to be right.”

“You know what I think?” Jessica asked.

Nathan paused a moment, turning to look over his shoulder at her directly.

“I think you think too much.”

“It’s my
job
to think,” Nathan insisted.

“It’s our
job
to kill Jung,” Jessica countered.

“If so ordered, yes. And I have no problem with that order. But understanding of all possible actions
and
outcomes better prepares us to make decisions on the fly, if required.”

“Jump flash,” Mister Navashee reported from the sensor station.

“Finally,” Jessica sighed, grateful for the interruption.

“It’s Scout One.”

Nathan turned aft toward the comm station.

“Incoming message from Scout One,” Naralena reported. “They confirm there are no changes to any of the targets’ courses or speeds.”

“Our luck holds,” Nathan said.

“Sooner or later, the other Jung-held systems will get word, and they’ll start taking combat postures around the clock,” Jessica reminded him.

“But not today,” Nathan replied confidently as he turned around and glanced at the mission clock on the starboard display to the right of his helmsman. “Mister Riley,” he said as he moved to his command chair. “Jump us to waypoint zero.”

“Jumping to waypoint zero, aye.”

“Set general quarters,” he continued as he took his seat, “and send confirmation to all forces at all staging points. Execute as planned.”

“Jump complete,” Mister Sperry reported from the Celestia’s navigation station. “We are at waypoint zero.”

“Sensor contacts,” Ensign Kono announced. “And a jump flash. The Aurora just jumped in. I’m also picking up all eight JKKVs, still on designated course and speed.”

“Transmit the launch authorization codes for our four weapons,” Cameron ordered.

“Transmitting launch authorization codes,” Luis acknowledged from the tactical station.

“All departments report general quarters,” Ensign Souza reported from the Celestia’s comm station.

“I’ve got four good replies,” Luis reported. “Our jump KKVs are armed and will launch in one minute, fifteen seconds.”

“Primary attack jump in ninety seconds,” Mister Sperry added.

Commander Telles sat quietly in the back of the combat jumper as it coasted silently through the cold, dark void just beyond the Eta Cassiopeiae system. Their course had them on an intercept with a large moon orbiting the system’s sixth planet, a massive gas giant called Hartog. The planet had many moons, only one of which was inhabited. In fact, it was the only hospitable world within the entire system, made so a millennium ago through the process the Terrans called terraforming. Its gravity was only half that of Earth, and the commander’s forces had spent an entire day, living and training, inside an acclimation facility they had constructed on Porto Santo that could simulate any gravitational and atmospheric environment desired. They would have considerable strength, but the thinner atmosphere would reduce his men’s endurance. It would have taken weeks for them to truly acclimate to the extreme differences, and they had been given a single day. At best, his men had learned to detect the early signs of hypoxia. As a precaution, they carried supplemental oxygen, which they would breathe via nasal cannulas during all surface ops on Adlair. Some of his marines did not need the additional oxygen, as the worlds they hailed from also possessed lower atmospheric pressures than that of Earth. His Ghatazhak troops, of course, had extensive training in all imaginable combinations of gravitational and atmospheric conditions.

The commander, his trusted subordinate, Master Sergeant Jahal, three Ghatazhak soldiers, and the three members of the combat jump shuttle’s crew, had been sitting in near silence for almost an hour. Even the combat shuttle’s talkative crew chief, Sergeant Torwell, had been quiet…at least part of the time.

“I wouldn’t mind getting a chance to run around on the surface a little, I can tell you that,” the young sergeant spouted over the comms. “Maybe try to see how high I can jump, or something.” The sergeant looked down between his legs, trying to look at the face of the Ghatazhak sitting below and around him as he sat in the gunner’s seat, suspended from the ceiling. “With those black pajamas of yours, I’ll bet you guys could jump fifty meters, straight up. We should have brought a basketball, LT. Played a little three on three against another crew, in half gravity. That would be a blast, wouldn’t it?”