“And anything else you need, I can find for you,” Baron von Alderheim said. “Will you also need workmen?”
“Thank you, no, Baron,” Peter said. “Learning camp construction is as good an introduction to military discipline as any.”
Ace Barton nodded agreement.
“Very good,” von Alderheim said. “Castramentation. The first lessons for a Roman soldier.”
Peter smiled slightly, unsure of what to say. “Sire, shall I introduce my officers now?”
“Please do,” Alexander said.
“My chief of staff, Captain Anselm Barton. Captain Andrew Lahr, Battalion Adjutant. Captain Jameson Mace, Scouts commander. Captains Jesus and Catherine Alana, Intelligence and Planning and Intelligence and Logistics, respectively. George Slater, our senior company commander.”
Alexander I raised an eyebrow. “Slater?”
George Slater grinned. “Yes, Sire. My father will be your War College Director when he gets here.”
“Ah. Thank you. Mr. Plummer—”
“Yes, Sire.” The speaker was a small man, elderly, conservatively dressed but with a splash of color in his scarf. “I’m Horace Plummer, secretary to the cabinet. This is the Honorable Roland Dawson, Principal Secretary of State. Mr. Eric Respari, Treasury and Finance. Sir Alfred Nathanson, Minister of War. Madame Elayne Rusher, Attorney General. Lord Henry Yamaga, Interior and Development. General Lawrence Desjardins, Commandant of the Royal Spartan Mounted Police.”
The gendarmerie chief was a blocky man with a thin mustache, with the heavy-gravity musculature most Spartans shared and a dark tan that must have taken work under a sun this pale; not a desk man by preference, Peter estimated.
“This is the War Council,” Plummer said. “In formal meetings the Speaker of the Senate would be present, and others can be invited to attend if their expertise is required, but these are Their Majesties’ key advisors. Your military orders will come directly from Their Majesties. For administrative purposes you will report to Sir Alfred. Their Majesties ask that you make your initial presentation now.”
“Thank you.” Peter stood and went to the display board. “I gather from the reports Mr. Plummer has been sending us ever since we entered the Sparta system that things are not quite what we expected here,” he said. “Some of this may need adjustment, but I think it important that we all agree on just what the Legion’s mission is.”
“Yes, of course,” Plummer said.
“With your permission, I’m going to lecture a bit,” Peter said. “Sparta has always had an enviable militia system based on the Brotherhoods, but until recently the Kingdom hasn’t had any need of a standing army or expeditionary forces. That’s changing due to the unstable political situation, and you’ve thought it wise to acquire both.”
“To be blunt,” King David Freedman said, “we can only afford the one if we have the other. We’ll need to rent out expeditionary troops which we hope we can count on at need, because we certainly can’t afford to keep a big standing army.”
“Just so,” Peter said. “Now, the original plan was to bring the entire legion in, let it clone itself, and hire out the clone. That would take care of an expeditionary force. Meanwhile, we would build the infrastructure for doing that trick several times over. By hiring out some units, and bringing selected experienced units home, Sparta would bootstrap up to having the equivalent of a regiment factory. With any luck they’d hire out for enough to support themselves while remaining loyal to Sparta.”
“Put that way, it doesn’t sound like a very good deal for the soldiers,” Roland Dawson said.
“Actually, it could be,” Peter said. “Depending on how it was done. Majesties, my lords, my lady—”
“With Madame Elayne’s permission, ‘gentlemen’ will suffice as a collective,” Alexander said.
Peter grinned. “Thank you, Sire. To continue. Sparta has considerable experience with militia, but not so much with long service professionals. The professional soldier, for the early part of his career, is quite different from the citizen soldier. Later, though, the differences tend to vanish. There are exceptions, but for the most part the troops may join for glamour, and fight for their comrades, but their real goal is acceptance and respect from someone they respect. A chance at honor, perhaps a second career, and a decent retirement. Sparta can provide all that.”
“Pensions,” David I said. “They can be expensive.”
“Yes, Sire, they can be, but if you want troops loyal to Sparta, as opposed to freebooters, that’s ultimately what you have to offer. I do point out that you have a growing economy, so that by the time the pensions are due you should have more than enough to pay them with. Also, you have land, and community resources. I think you may find that retired long service troopers make a net contribution to your economy even with pension costs.”
“Yes, yes, of course—”
“So,” Peter continued. “If it is still the goal to build long service expeditionary quality units, there will be a number of intermediate objectives, all interrelated. Take weapons systems as an example. They must be designed to take advantage of Sparta’s production facilities, but also the troop capabilities—education, schools, quality of the officer corps. What weapons are available will influence how the men are trained. Naturally all this has to fit into your industrial policy.
“Staff officers. I’m sure you know there’s a lot of difference between troop leaders and military managers.”
“I’d always thought so until I worked with Falkenberg,” Prince Lysander said.
Owensford nodded agreement. “The Legion is a bit special, Highness. Even so, you mostly worked with Colonel Falkenberg’s staff, who alternate between planning and troop leadership. We also have officers who never leave their units—don’t want to. Some of the best leaders you’ll ever find. Soldiers should be ambitious, but not so much so that the troops wonder why they should fight for a man anxious to leave them.
“Also, what you saw was the Legion on campaign, which, I grant you, we seem to be most of the time. What you didn’t see was in the background. Schools, technical training, social activities, weapons procurement, financial investments, mostly done by non-combatants. And for all that we’re a self-contained force, we’re only a regimental combat team. What Sparta needs to build will be considerably larger, and thus more complex.”
Peter shrugged. “A lot of that will be in Colonel Slater’s department, of course, but I do want you to be aware of it.”
“Yes, I see,” Alexander said. “It’s a bit daunting put all at once, but we knew we were in for a major effort. I think we’re still agreed?” He looked around the table and collected nods of assent.
“Yes,” David said simply. “Only things are not quite what they were. Perhaps we should let General Desjardins talk about the security situation. General—”
“You knew we had a security problem,” the constabulary commander said, touching the controls of a keypad. Everyone shifted in their seats as a three-meter square screen on the wall opposite the windows came to life. “It’s gotten considerably worse since the last packet of information we sent your Colonel Falkenberg.”
A map of the main inhabited portions of Sparta sprang out; the city, and the valley of the Eurotas and its tributaries, snaking north and west from the delta. A scattering along the shores of the Aegean and Oinos seas, and on islands. Dots showed towns; Melos at the junction of the Eurotas and the Alcimion, Clemens about a third of the way up, Dodona in the Middle Valley and Olynthos at the falls where it left Lake Alexander. That was a big river, half again as long as the Amazon. Another river and delta on the west coast opposite the Bay of Islands, with the town of Rhodes at the mouth; that one was about comparable to the Mississippi.
Red spots leapt out across the map; there was a concentration on the upper Eurotas and in the foothill zones flanking it on either side. A lighter speckle stretched west into the plains and mountains of the interior of the Serpentine continent, among the isolated grazing stations and mines and hunters’ shacks. There was a clear zone in the lower Eurotas, but a dense scattering in Sparta City itself.
“We’ve always had some banditry in the outback,” Desjardins continued. “Worse lately, and you can imagine why.”
“Scattered population,” Ace Barton said. “Vulnerable communications.”
“In spades,” the policeman said grimly. “There’s still plenty of good land near the capital—even here on the peninsula—but it takes money to develop it, which we don’t have. Agricultural prices so low that there’s no profit if you need much capital investment. And a lot’s locked up in big grants from the early settlement.”
David I stirred. “The government has always had more land than money,” he said, in a slightly defensive tone.
“Sir,” the police chief said, nodding acknowledgment. “So people swarmed up the Eurotas, and into the side hills. Miners too: there are pockets of good ore, silver and gold, copper, thorium, whatever, over most of the continent. None very big except for up near Olynthos, but enough . . . Everyone in the outback has a horse and a gun, and if you know what you’re doing you can live off the land pretty easy. Lot of tempting targets. The RSMP has been able to keep a lid on things, mostly; the Brotherhoods help. Until recently. This is the latest: the Velysen ranch.”