Assault: The Globur Incursion Book 6, page 8
Jamal nodded. “Fleet carriers are the largest and most complex warships. They take the most time to build. This move will mean that TF18 will be ready sooner. Fleet personnel is catching up with training new crew.” Jamal sighed. “So, you still have to find ten captains?”
Jones nodded. “I’ll move some of the captains I have up to a larger ship, but I do need four new captains for destroyers and four for cruisers. We need to shake the tree. I got my pick of personnel when TF15 was stood up, so the cupboard is pretty bare. Almost everyone I knew that was on the command track is dead or already commanding a ship.” Jones shook his head. “I wanted to move Zenke to a cruiser, but someone has to lead the destroyer squadron, and he is the best choice.”
“I’m sure that our captains will be happy to know they’ll be getting new ships. And even a promotion in some cases,” Jamal pointed out.
Jones shrugged. “We’ll be standing up TF17 later this week, as soon as Valkyrie is declared ready for operations by our friends here at the yard. We will also be standing down TF15 for good. I’ve been a rear admiral for all of six months and am now looking at commanding a second task force. The last two task forces I was part of will no longer exist.”
“You were never in command of TF3,” Jamal argued.
Jones shook his head. “Well, I was technically, for a short time in the Harlow system during our ignominious withdrawal. That seems so long ago now.” Regret and sadness covered Jones's face. “Even victory against these Globur tastes like defeat at times.”
Jamal took a pull on her coffee. “We did get to recover survival pods in the last battle. We did save the crew from ships that were destroyed. And we did prevail. Between us and TF13, we have destroyed three Globur battlegroups.”
Jones smiled grimly. “The problem with that is the Globur will definitely not sit still for that. At all. Once again, we have a single task force on the rim trying to stem the tide. There is no one better for that than Rear Admiral Pang. Her people were pushed back into patrol after that horrendous battle. I have to wonder what something like that does to a person’s psyche.”
Jamal nodded slowly. “I saw the holovids. It looks like it was a nightmare. Thankfully, most of the crew survived on those ships since the Globur were really intent on blowing up the ships. You know, I personally have never seen a Globur up close.”
“And you do not want to,” replied Jones heavily. “They are the stuff of nightmares.”
“While we are chatting, I have some news you may not like,” said Jamal carefully.
Jones arched an eyebrow. “Secrets, Nane? I thought we told each other everything when it comes to Valkyrie?”
Jamal nodded. It was rare for the admiral to use her first name, and he only did it when they were alone. “It is your Marines,” she said.
“Are they in trouble again?” A glint of amusement appeared in Jones’s eyes. “That Sanderson is a bit of a shit magnet. Hell of a Marine. What trouble are they in now?”
Jamal shook her head. “With TF15 about to be stood down, our Marine Expeditionary Force, the 15th MEF, is also about to be stood down.”
Jones nodded. “Sure, they can just become the 17th MEF. But,” Jones looked quizzical, “I sense that is where the issue lies?”
Jamal nodded. “Seems they are to be reassigned, and as you know, the Marine Corps has their own personnel division and takes care of their own. All I know is that they are not going to be assigned to the 17th MEF. I asked.”
“Asked who, exactly?” demanded Jones.
“Well, I got the word from Major Sante. I confirmed it with our MEF commander, Lieutenant Colonel Golovko. He said he has no idea what their next assignment is, but not the 17th. I spoke to a colonel at Marine personnel and got the runaround.”
“Damn!” Jones swore. “Those people are my lucky charm. We’ve been through a lot together. I need to get hold of General Pullman and cut through the bullshit. What good is being a hero if you can’t make a few calls? We needed those Marines in the last fight, and we may need them again.”
Jamal smiled. “I thought you might want to discuss this at your level. All I could get is that they are going back into the pool, and it is unlikely they will be assigned to the 17th MEF. Some personnel will be a straight transfer, but our really experienced veterans are meant for something else.”
Jones sighed. “Well, Nane, it seems I have a call to make. I need eight captains, but I also need those Marines. Maybe you can get started on vetting some captains?”
Jamal stood up. “I will get on it. I’ll leave the marine situation to you to it, sir. Thank you for coming on the tour. It was good for the crew to see you around the ship again.”
Jones smiled. “It’s a habit I seem to have, and one I’m glad to see you picking up. It’s important that the crew see their captain once in a while and realize we are real people too, who care about them and the job they are doing.”
Jamal returned the smile. “Thank you, sir.” She pivoted and left the room, the empty coffee cup marking the spot she had recently occupied.
Jones linked to the communications system and used a priority channel to ping General Pullman. An aide answered. “This is Rear Admiral Jones. I need to speak with General Pullman,” Jones announced, all business, the smile completely gone from his face. The aide had asked him to stand by, and he knew that meant the general was going to answer his call.
Pullman appeared. He filled the holodisplay, peering at Jones. “You found out,” he stated bluntly.
Jones was surprised. “Found out? General?”
“Those Marines—Alpha Company,” Pullman said evenly. “You found out that they are not following you to your next assignment.”
“I did,” replied Jones, still put off. He had only spoken to Pullman a few times at receptions, so he didn’t know him well.
“They are needed elsewhere,” Pullman said simply.
“These have been my Marines for a long time,” replied Jones. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
Pullman smiled. It was certainly a gesture that seemed unnatural to him. “Yes, Admiral, you have been through a lot together. I actually expected the call, given your reputation. But they are my Marines, the Corps’ Marines. They are the most battle-tested veterans in the Corps. You need captains to lead your task force. I need leaders and veterans in my Corps,” Pullman paused. “You surely know there are not enough of either to go around.”
Jones suddenly understood. Pullman needed veterans to help train all those new Marines. “I need veterans, too, General. You know what we are facing on the rim.”
“You will have veterans, Rear Admiral Jones,” Pullman said in a conciliatory tone. “This is not about you or TF17. This is about the Marine Corps hitting the enemy well prepared. I cannot afford to lose a bunch of Marines because they are too green. Our enemy is quick, intelligent, and merciless. We need to be ready. I do not need to explain the reasoning to you, but you will have a better understanding of this when you get your new orders, after you stand up TF17. I know it sucks to lose veterans and friends to other assignments, but rest assured, I am doing what is best for the Marines and the Fleet. You will get the rest of the story when the Stukov gets around to briefing you.”
Joes shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “I understand, General. Those Marines and I, we fought together on Ozu. We fought through the Markus Nebula.”
Pullman’s hearty laugh shocked Jones. “Not too many Marines can say they fought alongside a rear admiral crouched behind a barricade. You’ve got a lot of balls, Jones—and you are a natural leader. No rear admiral has ever called me to do anything else but complain about my Marines. I respect what you’re doing, but once you see the big picture, you’ll understand. Thank you for your dedication and respect for my Marines. The Corps is always at your service.”
Jones smiled and shook his head. “Alright, General. You’re right. It is your call, but I had to try. I assume that Lieutenant Colonel Golovko will be following me to TF17?”
Pullman nodded. “That is affirmative, Admiral. He is a good Marine, and he did a great job at the Markus Nebula. He speaks highly of your carrier captain, Jamal—and she did request he remain with the task force.”
Jones was not surprised by that. “Thank you, General. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have captains to find.”
Pullman killed the link, and Jones was left a bit amused and puzzled. At least I still have Zenke.
***
Sanderson was really enjoying himself. He had been reluctant to agree to Lilly’s plan to go on a trip to Albion Prime. He still had a bad taste in his mouth over the last time when he had met Zhui and Engers at the bistro. But Lilly had wanted to go to a mountain park in the northern hemisphere, where it was summer, and Sanderson wanted to make Lilly happy.
Being outside in the sunshine and clear mountain air had helped clear his head. Things were just not the same in the Marines anymore. Now he had some leisure time, he had met up with the platoon after they had finished at the yard to do the things they used to do. None of the sports was really practical anymore. They tried baseball, but everyone’s enhanced strength and reflexes made almost every pitch a home run—and a hunt for the ball.
They had tried flag football. That seemed like it might work. However, the Marines on defense could easily push the other line back, or just destroy the turf, earning them another complaint about damaging facilities.
Basketball was the next sport they had tried. Their enhanced reflexes and coordination meant that anyone could pretty much score from anywhere on the court. Even volleyball was out. They spent time waiting for the ball to come down, and then when it was spiked, the ball had not survived. This had also earned another complaint, since the ball left a nasty skid mark on the floor as it died.
Of course, a cornerstone of Marine culture—excessive drinking—was also out. However, some encouraging progress had been made on a hack to disable the medidoc in the augmentation to allow alcohol to remain in the system and have the desired effect. Narcotics were also ineffective.
Now they were all stuck with “good, clean fun,” as Sanderson liked to put it. He had stopped to enjoy the feel of the sun on his face and the pine breeze blowing across the valley. They were at a higher altitude, so it was pleasantly cool. Lilly was coming up the trail. Her face was red from exertion, and perspiration beaded on her forehead. Stray strands of hair caught the light breeze. To Sanderson, she was a vision of beauty.
She stopped beside him, catching her breath. She looked up at Homer to see him smiling at her. “You know, Homer, I hear the trip back is all downhill.”
Homer let out a laugh. “Better than uphill both ways.”
Lilly wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. “Right”
“There’s a meadow just ahead. Maybe a good spot for lunch?” asked Homer.
“I’m famished,” replied Lilly. “Sounds marvelous. You can go ahead and set up if you want.”
Homer pulled back a bit. “I came here to be with you. We’ll get there together.”
Lilly smiled. “Homer, what a gentleman you are! Where was that person a couple of hundred yards back down the trail?”
Homer offered his hand, and she took it. The trail leveled out and gently sloped up to a meadow full of long grass and wildflowers. They held hands as they walked up. The meadow was gently sloped toward the valley below and had a few trees. They chose a spot in the shade of a large pine tree. Together they laid out a blanket and flattened down the grass. Homer began to unpack the backpack he was wearing, producing a baguette, cheese, cold cuts, and a bottle of wine. That was followed by some plates and knives.
Homer set about cutting the baguette, and the aroma of fresh bread mingled with the pleasant scents of the meadow.
Lilly sat on the blanket, taking in the mountain vista. “There is not another soul anywhere near here.”
Sanderson paused for a moment. “Nope,” he pronounced. “Nearest person is just over 30 klicks off.”
Lilly kicked him lightly. “That’s not what I meant, Homer, and you know it. You didn’t have to use your augmentation to check. It seems we are the only two people in the world right now. It’s so good to get away. I’ve been cooped up in the lab for ages.’
“Or cooped up in the living unit,” Homer finished with a broad smile.
Lilly smiled back and took a drink from her water bottle. “This view was certainly worth the hike.”
They both enjoyed the quiet, broken only by the sound of the breeze through the trees and the buzzing of insects. Homer lay down beside Lilly. The gently sloping meadow was a natural amphitheater with the snowcapped mountains the performers.
Homer sat up and pulled over the plates of cheese, cold cuts, and the sliced baguette. “Sustenance?” he asked, grinning.
“Ok, Homer, get that wine open,” replied Lilly.
They savored the smoked cheese and washed it down with an earthy red wine that hinted strongly of plums. They ate and drank in silence for some time.
“My task force is being stood down,” said Homer staring off into the distance.
Lilly looked at him. “That’s good, right? That means you’ll be staying here longer?”
Sanderson shook his head. “Don’t know for sure. It does mean a new assignment. I can ask to be assigned to training new Marines.”
“Homer,” Lilly shook her head slightly. “You would hate training those people and sending them off god-knows-where. Will they keep you with your platoon at least?”
Sanderson shrugged. “No one understands the mysterious ways of Marine Corps personnel. Who knows? I may be sent on a recruiting tour or something.”
Lilly frowned. “I hate it when you go away, Homer. I know it comes with the territory, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“We have at least another week. We have to take what we have. Seize the day—carpe diem,” replied Homer philosophically.
“You say all the right things, Homer Sanderson,” crooned Lilly as she rolled on top of him.
“Hey, you’re going to spill the wine!” Homer laughed.
“Who cares?” replied Lilly as she kissed him deeply. “No one for 30 klicks, right?”
Chapter 8
Rear Admiral Pang felt the tension ratcheting up as TF13H approached transition outside the Mongolia system. Her mouth was dry as she watched the flag plot count down the seconds.
Those bastards will have seen us coming. They might even have guessed what we are. We destroyed the last battlegroup, but if they have something like ship recorders that record all critical systems until they are ejected by the ship AI when the ship is lost, that won’t be something we would detect. They surely cannot detect ours. If they are waiting for us, prepared, this could get pretty hairy.
Pang scowled. No one could see it as her armor was active, and the entire ship was in vacuum. She had gone to battle stations before they had transitioned; she wanted to be ready for anything. She had ordered a hold on fighter launches. She did not want to commit to launching all the fighters if they were trying to fight their way out of an ambush. The chances of an ambush were high. No one had any doubts that this would be a tough battle. The Globur would have seen them coming for at least eight hours out. Plenty of time to get on top of the transition point.
She had spent a good deal of time studying the recording of the destroyer Hound. The destroyer had been the sole survivor of TF4 when they were ambushed in the Tirakoni system. That was a long time ago, but the remarkable thing was TF4 had been destroyed very quickly. The Globur had been waiting for them, and TF4 had been on a course profile that made it obvious they intended to enter the system and orbit around the only habitable planetoid.
TF4 had been destroyed in under an hour. They had little chance to maneuver. They had been traveling at a much lower velocity than TF13H was traveling at now. They had not expected to find three Globur battlegroups sitting on the transition point. They had also been the older class ships, with shields that did little to stop the Globur beams. That had been their doom. The Globur beams had quickly disabled most of the ships.
Rear Admiral Parsons had been in command of TF4. A personal friend, he and Pang had been at the Academy together. Pang knew he was a very capable officer. He never knew what hit him. They never had a chance. At least we have that—a chance. If they try an ambush like that, there’s not much we can do but fight our way out. At least we have the newer shields. I hope TF13 holds together. I doubt we will catch them out like last time in the Mongolia system.
The only thing the Globurs could not know was their velocity. Pang had transitioned in combat formation with her ships arranged in a globe around the carrier. Her last orders had been for all ships to go to maximum on their gravity drives as soon as they transitioned to clear the transition point in case there was company waiting.
If there was an overwhelming force, then she hoped to draw them into a tail chase so that she could use the range advantage the human ships had over the Globur. No plan ever survived first contact with the enemy, Pang thought, remembering the words of an instructor at the Academy long ago.
The counter hit zero, and Pang felt Dixmude transition. The gravity drive kicked in at maximum power. A jolt passed through the ship, and Pang scanned the systems. She was suddenly rocked in her command chair, and the damage-control panel started to light up. Her heartbeat raced, and time seemed to slow as her augmentation fed her stimulants to add to the adrenaline racing through her system.
She almost missed the ping from the flag plot. It seemed drawn out somehow. The system FTL network was gone. The update came from one of the probes. Her stomach lurched as the plot showed a growing cloud of red icons surrounding TF13H.
So many, so many. Pang’s earlier hope fled her mind. She clamped down with a discipline that came from experience and forced herself to analyze the situation. There was only one choice. Extend and try to escape. Entering the Mongolia system was out of the question. The AI quickly tagged ships, missiles, and attack ships on the plot.
