Hidden Empire (63 page)
“Tal Lorie’nh”—he turned to the other commander—“explain to me what prompted you to devise such an unusual tactic.”
“You provided red team with a clear objective, Adar,” said the other cohort commander. “We simply calculated the most likely
manner to achieve the goal. Since this was not a public exhibition and no other Ildirans were observing our methods, I determined
that we were meant to capture the asteroid… not put on a show.”
Aro’nh scowled. “Blue team was not ‘putting on a show—’ ”
“Shall I replay the tapes for you, Tal Aro’nh?” Kori’nh snapped. “What was the point of the sphere-within-sphere configuration,
the orbiting sentry ships, the unfolding outer shell—if not for show? What purpose did that serve, without an audience? At
the very least, Tal, you made a poor choice of a standard battle-group formation. The situation required speed above all.”
“Adar, perhaps I should show you in our military manual—”
“Enough!” Kori’nh said, disgusted. “Tal Lorie’nh, did you conceive of your maneuvers? If so, I commend you.”
Though embarrassed, the other commander had enough honor not to take credit for something he hadn’t done. “Not precisely,
Adar. I recognized the wisdom as soon as I heard the plan… but the original concept can be credited to Qul Zan’nh, the Prime
Designate’s son. Zan’nh suggested that I break the cohort into separate maniples, each one with a different objective.”
Adar Kori’nh gave a satisfied sigh. Previously, he had seen Zan’nh do fast and imaginative things even when he led only a
septa; he was not surprised to hear that the Prime Designate’s eldest son was the mastermind behind red team’s victory. “Send
him in,” Kori’nh said, “immediately.”
A message was transmitted to the outer rooms where the maniple commanders waited. Moments later, the bright-eyed young Zan’nh
entered, saluted the Adar and then both sub-commanders. “You asked to see me, Adar?”
“Qul Zan’nh.” Kori’nh stepped closer and clasped his hands in front of his chest, formally acknowledging the young man. “As
supreme commander of the Solar Navy it is my right to hereby promote you for exemplary service and remarkable imagination
in achieving a victory during our exercises today.”
All three listeners looked astonished. Zan’nh had only recently been promoted to the rank of Qul, and traditional protocol
generally laid down the career pathways. “In light of the growing danger in the Spiral Arm, the Solar Navy vitally needs intelligent
and imaginative officers like yourself. You are hereby named Tal.”
Aro’nh could not contain himself. “This is extremely irregular, Adar! There are accepted practices—”
Kori’nh continued, ignoring the old man. “Zan’nh, you will replace Tal Aro’nh, who is from this day forward demoted to the
rank of Qul. His inappropriate command decisions would, in my opinion, place his cohort at risk in a real combat situation.”
The old Tal gasped, standing shaken as if the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from beneath him. “I… I would
prefer to retire, sir. My rank is—”
“Denied. This is a time of potential military crisis. I will not lose one of my experienced officers, but the lower rank is
better suited to your rigid disposition. You have always taken orders well.”
Aro’nh seemed barely able to keep his feet; for a moment it seemed as if only his stiff uniform kept him from collapsing.
“Adar, I will file a formal complaint.”
“Your complaint will be dismissed. I have the Mage-Imperator’s blessing, as well as his charge to make the Solar Navy into
a far superior fighting force.” The disgraced commander’s eyes blazed, but Kori’nh refused to back down. “You have served
well during your career, Aro’nh, but you have ceased to learn. You have forgotten how to adapt, and that would be a grave
danger to our Empire in the event of a conflict with an outside enemy. The Mage-Imperator has instructed me to heighten our
state of preparedness.”
The Prime Designate’s son stood at attention, astounded at the turn of events. Adar Kori’nh was pleased that the young man
did not preen or seem overly pleased with the promotion.
“Tal Zan’nh, you are now in command of a full cohort. Under your guidance, you will lead blue team’s complement of three hundred
forty-three ships. Congratulations, young man.”
Aro’nh looked broken, as if he had aged another century in the past few moments. Tal Lorie’nh also looked surprised and intimidated,
fearing the possibility of another exercise. Next time, he knew he would have to face off against Zan’nh, instead of having
the innovative young officer as his greatest resource.
“Gather all the ships,” Kori’nh said, tired. “I wish to announce Tal Zan’nh’s promotion and proceed with the victory ceremonies
as soon as possible. Perhaps the gas miners on Qronha 3 would like to see a show.”
T
he first new warship in the EDF’s enhanced Juggernaut class sparkled in spacedock, surrounded by a festival of monitoring
lights and sensors. The giant vessel hung completed in the construction yard, waiting to be formally launched.
The design and construction engineers were very proud of their work. Twelve more of the enormous vessels would be completed
soon, the cornerstones of an improved fleet ready to fight the deep-core aliens.
General Kurt Lanyan and the Grid 1 liaison officer Admiral Stromo—who would captain the new ship on its maiden voyage—had
arrived for the full ceremony with an honor guard of twenty combat-ready Remoras and a handful of carefully chosen news media
representatives.
As far as Lanyan was concerned, all this spectacle got in the way of the efficient running of military operations, but Chairman
Wenceslas disagreed. “Such things take little time but engender a great deal of public fervor and interplanetary support,
General,” Wenceslas had insisted. “It is an investment in your long-term military capabilities. If you can make the public
fall in love with you now, you won’t have problems later defending your actions—whatever they may be.”
And so, to inaugurate the expanded EDF fleet, King Frederick himself made a procession out to the asteroid construction yards,
where he would christen and launch the first Juggernaut.
Goliath
.
Though the name sounded fierce and powerful, General Lanyan wasn’t entirely sure it was an auspicious christening. After all,
the eponymous biblical giant had been defeated by a vastly smaller and underestimated David.
Surrounded by his flock of sycophants, advisers, court politicians, and ornately uniformed royal guards, the King arrived
and docked with the
Goliath
. “Most wonderful,” he said. Robes flowing, Frederick glided down the shining metal corridors toward the bridge. The status
lights and gleaming tactical displays shone impressively.
Lanyan had made sure that the crew worked double-time to polish every floor and panel, and to make certain there wasn’t a
speck of dust on the thick windowports. Frivolous showmanship, when the time and manpower might better have been spent rehearsing
military drills or performing target practice with the modified jazer and railgun weapons systems.
King Frederick nodded with appreciation. “Truly, General Lanyan, this is a remarkable warship.”
The news media accompanied him, broadcasting the sheer impressiveness of the
Goliath
to their viewers.
The expanded fleet had taken shape over the past several months, incorporating a dozen new Juggernauts, each with augmented
weaponry: ninety midsize Manta cruisers, 234 new Thunderhead weapons platforms, and literally thousands of fast Remora attack
ships—all completed at the space construction yards and issued to new squadrons scattered across the ten tactical grids. They
were ready for full-scale deployment, as soon as the deadly aliens showed themselves.
No one doubted that the insidious enemy would strike again.
In addition to the new craft, Lanyan had overseen the refit and absorption of a thousand privately owned vessels, commandeered
spacecraft that had been modified for useful service to the Earth Defense Forces: couriers, supply ships, recon vessels. As
commanding officer of the rejuvenated space military, Lanyan was doing his job and doing it well.
On the bridge of the
Goliath
, Admiral Stromo bent over a tactical control panel and activated the jazer banks. In a modulated, well-educated voice, he
explained the weapons carefully and optimistically to the King, who appeared fascinated.
“Our new fleet is far superior to those old relics still flown by the Ildiran Solar Navy. In fact, these EDF ships are more
powerful than any other war fleet ever constructed.”
“I certainly hope so, Admiral,” said King Frederick. “We did not invite hostilities with the strange aliens, but it is my
desire to finish this conflict as swiftly and cleanly as possible. Perhaps now they will parley with us.”
“We all wish that, Sire,” General Lanyan said with a tight smile. Unfortunately, he thought to himself, nobody had the slightest
idea of how to proceed. The EDF couldn’t even find the deep-core aliens. Many skymines and probes had skated over the high
cloud surfaces, but when had anyone ever explored the furious inhospitable depths of a gas giant?
Fighting the exotic enemy, striking against diamond-hulled warglobes or pursuing them into high-pressure atmospheres, was
completely different from any kind of warfare that Lanyan had ever considered in his simulations. His prior plans would have
been effective in any conflict with the Ildiran Empire or a rebellious Hansa colony.
The deep-core aliens, though, were something else entirely.
This would never be a war based on infantry and ground troops. It would not be won by capturing and occupying territory, probably
not even through negotiation. If the enemy truly lived deep within a giant planet, where hydrogen itself could be compressed
into metal, what possible overlap of resources or territorial needs could the two sides have? What could the aliens want?
Lanyan knew in his gut that this would be a war of utmost destruction, employing heavy weaponry—perhaps even doomsday bombs—as
well as massive, invincible starships. Individual soldiers would be useless, infantry and handguns completely irrelevant.
Instead, the EDF fleet needed trained navigators, pilots, and gunners for the integral weaponry on heavy battleships.
On the
Goliath’s
bridge, King Frederick called an end to the tour. Basil Wenceslas must have instructed him to limit his visit to no more
than an hour. The Juggernaut crew had other duties to perform.
“Gentlemen,” Frederick said, “we are most pleased and impressed. I find the
Goliath
completely satisfactory, and I declare it ready to depart. This Juggernaut will be the flagship of our awesome new Earth
Defense Forces.” When he smiled, his wrinkled face reclaimed some of its youthful glow. “I trust you’ll one day honor me with
a brief cruise around the solar system?”
“That can be arranged, Sire,” Lanyan said, then remembered the public-relations reminder Basil had given him. “I’d like to
take this opportunity to express my gratitude to every citizen in the Terran Hanseatic League. Their support, their sacrifices,
and their continued belief will help to ensure a thorough and decisive victory. We humans are a strong race. We spit at adversity,
and we always triumph in the end.”
King Frederick beamed. “Well spoken, General. I will issue a royal command for the new, expanded fleet to launch with all
due haste. Once we defeat these cowardly aliens who strike without warning, we can return to our normal and prosperous way
of life in the Hansa colonies.”
The King’s retinue applauded while the media representatives gulped up every image to enhance and broadcast to their viewers.
General Lanyan’s heart swelled with enthusiasm and confidence, but in his mind he knew the reality would be significantly
more difficult than his speech had implied. Glancing across the
Goliath’s
bridge, he met Stromo’s eyes. Both men understood, held the same reservations.
The new Terran battlefleet was far superior to anything Lanyan had commanded before. Their ships were more numerous, their
weapons more destructive. But in reality they knew almost nothing about the capabilities or motives of their enemy.
Lanyan feared that all this cheering and celebration amounted to little more than whistling past a graveyard.
