Rook’s Gambit
John Mina
Sean Petrik liked the staccato clicking sound his boots made as he walked down the hall. Now, as a full-fledged officer, there seemed to be more authority, more crispness to his stride. He particularly enjoyed the loud booming echo which bounced around the white marble floor and walls. Sean smiled when he came to the door and, for the thousandth time, read the name of his professor engraved on the plaque it held up.
COLONEL RICHARD T. DONLON
PROFESSOR OF BOLO TACTICS
FORT WILLIAM R. SCHEN MILITARY ACADEMY
His smile broadened as he gave a token knock and walked in beaming with pride. He had come directly from his graduation ceremony and still had on his dress blacks.
“Come on in, Petrik,” the colonel said and sat back in his chair sizing up his former student.
The office was spacious but stark, with a solid dark norwood desk and three matching, uncushioned chairs. The only decorations interrupting the view of the pure white walls were three framed diplomas, four Certificates of Valor, and one large poster showing the famous fire-breathing skull over the number 19: the symbol of the colonel’s regiment. Sean snapped to attention and gave a formal salute. “Lieutenant Petrik reporting as ordered, sir,” he announced, stressing Lieutenant.
“At ease, Petrik, have a seat.” The grey-haired colonel took a cigar out of the brass-trimmed humidor on his desk and offered another to the young officer.
“No thank you, sir. I don’t smoke.”
Donlon eyed the lieutenant as he lit the cigar and blew out huge puffs of white smoke. “You will, son. Wait ’till you `See the Elephant.’ ”
Sean smirked to himself with the image that brought up. Such an ancient expression with apparent origins in prespace Earth. Of course Donlon hadn’t actually seen an elephant; no one had. They were extinct. Sean had seen a holovid of one, though, and it had to be one of the most ridiculous looking things the universe had ever produced. But he knew his old professor meant that he had never been in combat.
Donlon continued puffing as he spoke. “Congratulations, Petrik. Sorry you weren’t first in your class at graduation.”
“Bancroft deserved to be first, sir. She’s a better commander.”
“That’s true, but you still have a lot to be proud of. Even the person who finishes last in the class is qualified to command a Bolo. But I don’t have to tell you that. Anyway, the reason I called you away from all the celebrations and kisses from your sweetie is that I already have your first assignment.”
“No trouble, sir. I broke it off with my `sweetie’ in my first year. It just wasn’t fair to her since I had no time available for the relationship.” Sean could barely contain his excitement. “My assignment, sir?”
Donlon smiled and shook his head. “Always the practical one.” After another puff, the colonel began his briefing. “I’ve been asked to pick someone for a special assignment. I realize you just graduated, but your skills are needed on the front. You’ll be shipping out in two days.”
“Thank you, sir.” Petrik could barely contain his elation. “I’ve been looking forward to fighting the Melconians for two years now. Ever since my cousin was killed. But why me?”
“You’re one of the few who were trained with the still classified Mark XXXIV. But you won’t be fighting Melconians. You’re going to Delas. You all right, son?”
Lieutenant Petrik couldn’t help but flinch. His head was reeling with all this new information to process. “Well . . . yes, sir, I helped field test the Mark XXXIV and I’ve been dreaming of commanding one. But . . . er . . . where the hell is Delas? And who will I be fighting?”
“Delas is on the frontier. And you’ll be fighting the Kezdai. Here.” He tossed a large envelope. “You can study all the details. However, you won’t be commanding. Your Bolo will be operating under General Cho.”
Sean’s disappointment was evident but he maintained his composure. “Any relation to `The’ General Cho?”
Colonel Donlon sat back and took a long draw from his cigar. Then he slowly blew out the smoke while he tapped the ashes into a silver receptacle. “It is `The’ General Cho.”
This was more than the lieutenant could bear. “General Cho? General Hayward Cho, the Hero of Laxos? But that was back in 3311.” His face was a mask of disbelief. “He must be over . . . ”
“He’s 97. And he’s been retired for twenty years or so. He taught here at the Academy for thirty years. Where do you think I learned tactics?”
“But why would they . . . ”
“The old bastard settled down on an obscure frontier planet. Said it was just what he was looking for. Secluded, peaceful . . . Said he was going to study the art of `bonsai,’ whatever the hell that is. Well, he had the bad luck to pick a spot that wound up right in the middle of a major invasion. It seems these Kezdai need the minerals on Delas and don’t have much use for humans. The current situation can only be described as unstable. About three years ago this previously undiscovered race called Kezdai sent an expeditionary force to Delas to see what they were up against. They were squashed pretty quickly but followed up with a full-scale invasion with a mission of total conquest and annihilation of the resident humans. It was touch and go for a while but the locals managed to hold them to about half the planet. The battles in the surrounding space have yet to have either side emerge dominant so your insertion will be as covert as possible. The hope is that these extra Bolos will turn the tide. Unfortunately, there are very few veteran Bolo commanders around and old Cho got drafted out of retirement.”
Sean mused, “I guess if I have to serve under someone, it might as well be the greatest Bolo tactician of all time. You think he’s still sharp?”
The colonel looked thoughtful. “You never know with Cho. There was somewhat of a scandal when he retired. A few of the higher-ups thought he was incompetent. They sort of forced his retirement.”
“He was declared incompetent twenty years ago?” Petrik was almost shouting. “Colonel, what have you gotten me into?”
“I’m not sure, son. That’s why I picked you. You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen and, well, I thought you could handle it no matter what the situation.”
The lieutenant stared at his instructor, watching the smoke billow over the desk. Then he took a deep, smokeless breath, exhaled slowly, and gave his monotone reply. “Thank you, Colonel. I’ll do what I can.”
* * *
Sean popped the hatch of his “egg” and was immediately conscious of the rich organic smell of this planet while the steamy air caused his face to perspire. As he crawled out, the arhythmic symphony produced by the forest life provided a stark contrast to the silence of the highly insulated drop pod. He gazed at the gigantic trees whose branches intermingled to form an upper strata for the arboreal denizens as well as provide a protective canopy for the creatures on the ground.
Well, here I am, he thought, once more resigning himself to whatever inglorious fate awaited him. He spent a few minutes stretching out, took a detailed inventory of the equipment, checked his wrist computer for his coordinates, then secured his equipment and began to hump through the old-growth vegetation toward the rendezvous point.
Petrik’s mind raced ahead, powered by the anxiety of adjusting to a new world, a new Bolo, and a very, very old commander whom he worshiped as a legend but who, at this point, might be a feeble old tree grower. That’s what bonsai was. He had looked it up. The art of growing trees and keeping them small. It seemed kind of silly, since there were plenty of plants that looked just like small trees.
There was certainly no lack of large trees here. The forest seemed to go on forever, with an infinite variety of vegetation. Many of the trees seemed like giant grasses and almost all had thick nests of undergrowth around their bases. He often couldn’t tell where the host tree left off and the parasitic vines began. Or maybe they were all part of the same organism. He’d never had much use for botany but there were some fascinating specimens here.
Sean was in the process of admiring a particularly grandiose tree with green bark when a great, blood-curdling roar issued from behind it. The brush shook violently, then an enormous creature burst out and charged directly at him. The thing was scuttling on jointed legs that moved a lot faster than he thought possible and was wielding a pair of vicious claws. Sean’s combat training took over and he leapt to the side milliseconds before the razor-sharp blades snapped together in the space he had just occupied. The momentum of the charge caused the beast to take a few seconds to spin around and renew the attack but by then Sean had his gauss pistol out and was blowing dozens of holes in its carcass. Even so, the creature still managed to complete its final lunge, which Petrik sidestepped, before it flopped, lifeless, to the ground.