“We were looking forward to Sparta as a permanent base; the wives and children came here to set up real homes while the Legion was dropping into a combat zone on New Washington. Now we can barely go into Sparta City.”
Everyone nodded; there had been no terrorist attacks on Legion civilians yet, but that was as much because of caution and careful planning as anything else.
“And the worst of it is,” she went on, “that otherwise it’s close to ideal here. Not just the weather and the food—” That brought some chuckles; Tanith’s perpetual steambath had been driving everyone berserk, the Legion’s civilians worst of all “—but things in general. The Education Ministry’s people have been a great help with the children; they have good schools here, and on Tanith we had to do everything ourselves. No borloi, either.”
Nods; Tanith lived by the drug trade. Drugs grown by slaves, at that, and the general social atmosphere was about what you would expect. Nobody had been at ease with the prospect of their children growing up in a place like that, and you could only isolate from the surrounding environment so much.
“In fact,” she went on, “we’ve made more friends here than on planets we’ve stayed on for years. If it wasn’t for the war . . .”
“We wouldn’t be here,” Owensford answered dryly. “We’ll coordinate with the RSMP and try to see the civilians can visit town safely, Mrs. Frazer. I’d also appreciate it if the defense drills for the women and children were stepped up. In fact, I’d like to appoint a standing committee of you, Mrs. Savage, and, hmm, Mrs. Fuller, together with Veterans Smith, Puzdocki and Shaoping, to review the procedures and suggest alternatives. Any objections?”
“We’ll need access to the planning computers,” Beatrice Frazer said.
“Coordinate with the Captains Alana,” Owensford said. “Objections? In favor?” A unanimous show of hands. “Battalion Sergeant Guiterrez?”
The stocky chicano smiled. “Sir,” he said, “with the men, we’ve got almost the opposite problem. They like this place too much.”
Owensford frowned; like the CoDominium Marines from whom the Legion had grown, and the French Foreign Legion before them, desertion had always been one of Falkenberg’s Legions’ problems. Soldiers like soft duty, but you have to let warriors kill something once in a while. You can use men who like to polish equipment in barracks, but you’d better have some warriors, too. . . .
“Not going over the hill, exactly, sir,” Guiterrez said. “Plenty of fighting. Gets downright personal. But most of our long-service people could get permanent ranks in the Spartan army a couple of jumps up from where they are, commissions even. The pay’s good, they could get Citizenship, and hell, the people here like soldiers, sir. These are good men we’re training, too, not people you’d be ashamed to serve with. And since the Legion’ll be retaining a base here, it wouldn’t be like cutting themselves off. You can expect a drop in reenlistments as contracts come due. This is a place we can belong.”
Owensford nodded. “The CoDominium Fleet likes this place for retirement, for that matter. But we have to win, first, Top,” he said. “Otherwise this won’t be a place anyone can live.”
“Win. Yes, sir. Major, dammit, they won’t let us win! Major, we know who’s behind most of this—”
“We’ve been over this already, Top. Comments noted. Now, we’ve received a communiqué from the Colonel—” A rustle around the table. “None of you need worry. I’ve given the casualty list to the chaplains.
“Came in an hour ago with the CD courier ship. The message is just short of ten Earth months old. The Regiment landed safely, took its initial objective, and has moved on Allansport; they expect some fighting there. Colonel Falkenberg approves our measures to date—” just after he landed and found out how rapidly the situation had deteriorated. God, we thought that was bad. “—but warns that mobilization on a larger scale may be needed and authorizes the necessary reassignments.”
A chuckle, especially from the officers. Exactly what you’d expect from Christian Johnny.
“And a message for all of us.” Owensford touched the console in front of him.
Falkenberg appeared on the screen at the far wall. The colonel was seated at his field desk and wore field uniform. “We’re moving ahead of schedule here,” Falkenberg said. “Light casualties. Good local support. Details attached.
“Your reports say things are rough there,” Falkenberg said. “I’m sorry to hear it, but I have to say I’m not greatly surprised. I did hope you’d have some time before our enemies built up strength, but Sparta is important to Bronson and his people. It’s even more important to us, the way things are developing. It’s vital that you keep Sparta independent. I know you’ll do that, whatever it takes.
“Administrative matters. Major Owensford is herewith promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and authorized to accept whatever Spartan rank he feels is justified.
“Colonel Owensford will now assure himself that this room is secure and all present are authorized and cleared for discussion of regimental business.”
The screen went blank. Owensford looked at each person in the room, then typed in a phrase on his console. Falkenberg reappeared.
“As all of you know, there’s more happening than we can usually discuss in Council meetings. I regret that, because you’re being asked to endure hardships without knowing why. I can only say, what you’re doing is important to us all. To the Regiment, and to whatever future civilization has out here. That future is uncertain. The CoDominium is breaking up, but it’s not dead yet. It still has great power. That power is divided. Our group, the faction loosely headed by the Grants, the Blaines, Admiral Lermontov—”
“—Bloody blunt about it,” George Slater said.
“—controls part of the Fleet. A smaller group is loyal to the Bronson faction in the person of Vice Admiral Townsend. Most of the Fleet is trying to stay neutral: ‘No politics in the Fleet, the Fleet is our fatherland.’ We can all sympathize with that view. We’ve all held it. It’s now an obsolete notion. There is no Fleet, and we’ll have to build a fatherland, a fatherland for ourselves and a home for the Fleet.
“What you’re doing is significant to that effort. If things go well here, we’ll have influence in New Washington, enough influence that we should be able to base naval and marine units here. That won’t be enough. We’ll also need bases on Sparta.
“The question inevitably arises, who do I mean when I say ‘we’? I don’t know. Clearly some entity larger than the Legion, and for that matter larger than whatever part of the Fleet joins our faction. I confess I don’t yet know what that entity will be. I have my hopes. I think you may be in a position to know better than I do.
“We face a very uncertain future. I’ll do what I can to take some of the pressure off you, but frankly, I can’t do much just now. The situation here will require all our political resources until we have New Washington stabilized. Don’t feel ignored, though, because what you’re doing is vital. You’re distracting our enemies, the enemies of the Legion, and, for that matter, the enemies of civilization. What they throw at you there they can’t throw at us here. You’re helping grind them down. It won’t be easy, that kind of campaign never is, but I know you can do it.
“We’re going to win. Never forget that. Godspeed and God bless you.” The image faded.
“Bloody hell,” someone said.
“A war of attrition,” George Slater said. “Major—Colonel, I have a request. I won’t put it as a motion until I see what you think.”
“Very well,” Owensford said.
“I propose that we ask my father to sit on this Council. With all due respect, none of us here is very experienced in Fleet politics—”
“And General Slater has been with Falkenberg longer than anyone else,” Owensford finished. “As you all know, Colonel Falkenberg is very sensitive to the principle of unity of command. He was therefore careful not to imply that General Slater was in any way associated with command of Legion units here. I much appreciated that. However, I agree with Captain Slater. The situation here is not what we expected. Events have moved much faster than we expected. I think we can use the experience of retired Lt. Colonel Hal Slater on this Council, and I will entertain a motion to that effect.”
“So moved.”
“Second.”
“Moved by Regimental Sergeant Gutierrez and seconded by Mrs. Frazer. All those in favor say aye. Nays? I hear none. Let the record show the vote was unan—”
There was a brisk knock at the door. Owensford frowned. “Come.”
The door opened. Owensford looked up, felt his face freeze into blankness at the junior lieutenant’s expression.
“Sir,” the young man said. “Sorry to interrupt. Priority message from Sparta City. The transportee shuttle has been sabotaged. There are over a thousand dead, and the . . . Sir, the CoDominium enclave Commandant has summoned all heads of government and armed forces to a meeting. Immediately, sir.”