Owensford nodded. “Well done.” He meant that. Building a regimental-sized fighting force in such a short time was a considerable accomplishment. “Fortunately, we don’t have to provide all the managerial and staff service training. General Slater’s War College is doing an excellent job of that.
“What we here must do is develop combat capability. That’s more than simply honing individual skills. It’s a matter of working with what we have, to blend weapons and skills and capabilities into fighting units. Captain Jesus Alana will elaborate.”
“If I may lecture for a moment,” Jesus Alana said. “The available weapons, Sparta’s industries, and financial limitations all dictate that whatever we eventually add to the mix, Sparta will for some time to come specialize in infantry. This is not necessarily a disadvantage. Infantry has dominated war in many eras, and can be decisive today.
“Since we have little choice but to develop infantry teams, we need to understand what infantry does. There are two major objectives to infantry action. One is to take ground and hold it. The other is to kill or disable the enemy.
“These are generally achieved in quite different ways. The best way to take ground is to move in when it’s not occupied, and get there with enough force that no one wants to dispute it.
“The best way to kill enemy troops is to make him break his teeth assaulting prepared positions. Of course, it doesn’t take too bright a commander to know frontal assaults against strong positions aren’t a good idea, so it follows that the best tactic is to make him think there aren’t many of you out there. No big target for him to shoot at. Then hit him with real firepower he didn’t expect. The United States developed that into a fine art in Vietnam just before the politicos closed them down: small patrols able to spot for long-range artillery and missiles. The enemy couldn’t fight back because he couldn’t get at the artillery and missile bases, and the patrols weren’t a very good target because they were small enough to stay dug in. They were also well armed and trained for close combat.”
“Doesn’t that take high technology we don’t have?” Alexander asked.
“Not so high as all that, sir,” Catherine Alana said. “And again we make do with what we have. Jesus and I have worked out something. Should be quite a surprise to the enemy.”
“That would be a pleasant change,” Alexander said. The frowns on the faces of the king and General Desjardins brought Owensford back from the pure professional satisfaction of doing a difficult job, reminding him of exactly why it had been so necessary to hurry.
“So,” Jesus continued. “Our goal, then, is to develop light and agile forces accustomed to digging in and defending themselves against close in enemies, while bringing in fire support to deal with everything else. We then tailor our training to that end—and of course that decision affects our weapons procurements, which impact industrial decisions.
“As to the technological skills, first we teach them to be military officers, leaders, then we send them to General Slater’s War College, or the University. Or both. In this way we bootstrap up to larger units.” Jesus shrugged. “Unit cohesion suffers, of course, but we can stabilize assignments to troop units once we have developed all the skills required. After that it’s a matter of sane replacement policies.”
“If we live that long,” Desjardins said.
Peter Owensford nodded. “I’m coming to that. Captain Alana, please give us a strategic appreciation. Begin with the political background, if you please.”
“Sir. First, the good news,” Jesus Alana said. “The Foundation Loyalist and Pragmatist factions—not really parties yet—have agreed on the tax increases necessary for the security program.” The Spartan constitution included discretionary funds always at the disposal of the Crown, but new taxes required Council and Senate approval. “As long as they pull together, the situation is serious but not desperate.”
“The bad news,” he went on, “is that the NCLF is making political hay with the massacre at the Spartosky. They brought criminal charges against the Milice, the kings, the Legion individually and collectively, even Miss von Alderheim here.” Somebody laughed down the table, Owensford sent a quelling glance.
General Desjardins snorted. “After twenty police were killed! Cases thrown out of court.” Spartan law was quite unequivocal on the subject of deadly self-defense. Grudgingly, he added: “Some of the crowd were shot in the back as they ran. The Milice had never been under fire before, and they panicked.”
Jesus Alana smiled. “Ah, but General Desjardins, the news cameras were disabled before the rocket attack. To the NCLF’s target audience, pictures are truth and written words automatically lies. Street demonstrations have become a daily occurrence. The Dockworkers’ Union has staged several sympathy strikes, and there has been loss of produce on the docks to spoilage. And Mr. Dion Croser—let me rephrase that—Senator Dion Croser is now their representative in the legislature.”
Alexander sighed. “I wouldn’t have thought the Citizens in the union would tolerate it,” he said.
“They know they’re outnumbered, and they know Croser’s goons know where their families live,” Desjardins said bluntly. “You will not let us use those measures against him, but he is free to use them himself. The end result is, he’s now got a perfect platform and Legislative immunity from libel laws. He’s spent the last two months up and down the Valley, organizing in the riverport towns. The bastard can make a speech, I’ll grant him that. Even got some farm-workers signed up, won’t that be lovely when he takes them out on strike in the middle of harvest in the sugar country, say.”
Jesus Alana coughed. “Yes. Unfortunately, we also have nothing we could take to court to connect the NCLF with serious illegal activity. Of which there has been a steady increase.” He touched the controls, calling up a map of the Eurotas Valley, a shape like a horizontal S running four thousand kilometers from northwest to southeast as the crow flew. Much more in terms of river frontage, of course. For most of its length it was an alluvial trough, flanked by hills and mountain ranges; those culminated in the Himalayan-sized Drakon Range in the west.
“More Helot attacks on isolated ranches. Also trucks, transport, economic targets—weirs, power stations—and most recently, a small RSMP post here in the Middle Valley. Most of the troopers were out on patrol, but four were killed and considerable weapons and equipment seized. So far, retaliatory action has not been . . . very effective.”
Desjardins stirred. “My men are doing their best, but they’re impossibly overstretched,” he said. “Just the Valley is over two million square miles! By the time they’ve gotten to the site of one incident, the trail is cold and there’s another alarm somewhere else. What prisoners we’ve taken are useless, and deny any knowledge of a connection between the Helots and the NCLF.”
“Yet it seems conclusive,” Owensford said. All eyes turned to him; it was a lonely feeling. “This is not bandit trouble. This is the beginning of a classic two-level guerrilla war, of a pattern quite common on Earth during the Cold War period, before the CoDominium. Quite classic, almost as if it were taken from a book. The directors of this war—it can only be called that—know what they’re about. We are facing an able, determined and ruthless enemy.”
“One singularly well equipped,” Catherine Alana said. “We’ve been analyzing the jamming signals used during the riot. Highly sophisticated. Definitely off-planet equipment, and probably personnel.”
The Spartans looked up quickly. “Who?” Alexander asked.
“Nothing definitive,” Catherine said. “But if I had to say for the record, I’d guess one of the Meiji technoninja outfits.”
“But you’re not sure?” Desjardins said.
“They’re blooming expensive,” Jesus Alana said. “We can’t think who hates Sparta enough to pay that price. This planet doesn’t have that sort of enemy.”
“Croser does,” Alexander said. “So long as his creditors don’t call in his debts and ruin him.”
“Which perhaps we should arrange,” Catherine Alana said quietly.
Jesus grinned. “Then there is another matter.”
“Yes?” Desjardins prompted.
“The atrocities,” Catherine Alana said. “If the rebels do have off-planet help, it is from an organization that does not recognize the Laws of War. A lot of the Meijian outfits don’t, but they’re mostly espionage and clandestine-operations oriented. Outside the mercenary structure entirely.”
Jesus Alana shrugged. “So. We have guesses as to who, but there is no uncertainty about what: the enemy has high-tech off-planet support. That being true, they probably have other capabilities we have not seen.”
“A timely warning,” Alexander said.
“Indeed,” Jesus Alana agreed. “More timely, I think, than the enemy suspected. Moreover, General Slater has the opinion that these people have been closely studying the classic works on guerrilla warfare. I am inclined to agree. And while the classic patterns are classic because they have been effective, they do have the disadvantage of being well known. From here on, we should have clues as to what the enemy will do next.”