Starfist - Flashfire. Part 8

"Sure. But once we're out of this hole we could maneuver, position ourselves to advantage, Colonel. As it is, Cazombi is going to get us all killed."

"What can we do about it, sir? Every man jack in what's left of our division is ready to fight, despite the reduced rations and the living conditions."

"There's always something that can be done, Colonel." Sorca smiled and patted the colonel on his shoulder. "You just stick with me."

Two huge explosions shook the bunker. "There goes Nine O'Clock Nina again," Corporal Barry ("The Liver") Livny muttered. Barry was famous in the company for his drinking ability, when drink was available, which it had not been since they'd left home months ago. "Hard to tell what time it is outside unless she drops in on us." He grinned and rubbed the nonregulation beard stubble on his chin. He wasn't old enough to grow a regular beard but the fuzz had lengthened noticeably over the past weeks. He tolerated very well the snide comments from his buddies, "Hey, Liver, you didn't shave this morning, did you?" because shaving was a luxury: The water ration had been cut again. There were only two electric razors in the whole company and Corporal Livny maintained he would not take sloppy seconds on a shave. As a Guardsman he could get away with it; a regular would've long ago taken a bayonet to his whiskers.

"This c.r.a.p is bad enough to puke a dog off a gut wagon," PFC Harry ("Whimper") Quimper complained, spooning the viscous ma.s.s that was his breakfast out of his mess kit. He ran a filthy forefinger around the inside of the tin and stuck it into his mouth, sucking up the last bit of juice.

"You'd b.i.t.c.h if they hung you with a new rope, Whimper. That is real fancy 'kwe-zeen,' as the French say," Private Ennis ("Shovel") Shovell muttered. "I believe you are actually gaining weight on these rations," he added, finishing his ersatz coffee. Ennis was forty and married and no one in his platoon could figure out why he'd ever volunteered for the infantry. Whenever the subject came up, which it did frequently, all he'd say was, "Well, take my wife. Please." In civilian life, he'd been an accountant with an insurance firm, earning more money than either of his bunker mates had ever imagined having in their own pockets. Why he hadn't joined the finance corps was also a mystery to them and when frequently asked about his choice of arms inevitably he'd say, "I'm Jewish. I refuse to be cast as a stereotype." Shovell stood over two meters and was well built for a man who'd led a sedentary life. He never complained when it was his turn to use a shovel on the frequent repair details or to clean out their bunker.

"Nah, I lost three kilos this past month," Quimper said. "What're we getting, fifteen hundred calories a day now? Man, how I long for the old days, when we got twenty-five hundred a day." The "old days" for these men of the New Geneseean National Guard had been when they were first inserted on Ravenette. They'd brought their own rations with them. General Cazombi's troops were already by that time reduced to living on a thousand calories a day. n.o.body could now agree on what they needed more, food or reinforcements.

"Isn't it p.r.o.nounced 'koo-zine,' Ennis?" Livny asked.

"Nah, 'kwe-zeen', I studied French once. Before you children were born. I love dead languages, you see?" "Then why study them, if they're dead?" Quimper asked. He looked genuinely puzzled. "Wimpy," Ennis replied patiently, as if talking to a child, "I may need to know it when I die, which if our rations don't improve and their aim does, might be fairly soon." "I been thinking, maybe we could eat them ratlike things, those 'slimies'?" Quimper suggested. "I'm hungry enough for some fresh meat, but ugh, a guy'd have to really be starvin' to chow down on one o' them things!" "There ain't that many of 'em, Wimpy, hardly worth the effort to catch one." "Oh, you'll see more of them, if we stay in here long enough," Shovell said. "They're scavengers and the longer we're here the more of them'll be attracted by the waste and-and-you know, the bodies."

He shuddered. Almost on cue, several heavy explosions shook the bunker. The men scrambled to their positions but nothing moved in the no-man's-land between them and the rubble that had once been Fort Seymour.

"I wish they'd come," Quimper sighed, "get me some action." Since these men had been on Ravenette, the Coalition forces had not mounted a single ground attack against them, just this intermittent pounding with artillery, missiles, and bombs. Their landing had been tough and their division, composed of regiments hastily gathered from several different worlds, had taken very heavy casualties.

"Be careful what you wish for, Wimpy," Ennis advised. "I wish I was with Napoleon at Thermopylae, Shovel, at least I'd have a chance to actually fight someone," Wimpy retorted. Wimpy fancied himself a military historian but he could never understand why the Greeks at Thermopylae didn't use their cannon to better advantage. "You are at Thermopylae, my child," Ennis replied. "Do I need to remind you how that one ended?" Quimper's stomach growled audibly. "Man, I used to eat some good s.h.i.t at home, you know?" "You get hungry enough you can eat anything," Shovell replied, dryly. "Bacon, eggs, sherobies for breakfast every G.o.dd.a.m.ned day! Hey, Shovel, we go into a POW camp like some of the guys are saying, will they feed us better? Man," he sighed, changing the subject abruptly, "what I wouldn't give to exchange one of you guys for a woman right now." "Wimpy, sometimes you really don't make much sense," Shovell replied. "A real man would exchange us for two women."

"Nah, Shovel, I'd only exchange you, so Liver could have somethin' to watch," Quimper laughed. Quimper's laugh was very disturbing to most people, a high-pitched braying sound, but his bunker mates had gotten used to it.

"I was up to the battalion S3 a couple of days ago," Livny offered, "and the word is out that more reinforcements are on the way. Marines. They're sending the G.o.dd.a.m.ned hard-a.s.sed jarheads here!"

"And then what? Well, then, all our problems will be over," Shovell snorted. "Hey!" Quimper shouted, sitting up straight, "maybe the Marines will bring some good-looking wimmen with 'em!"

"Women, my a.s.s," Livny snorted, "I hope they bring some extra field rations."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

"Mr. President! Mr. President! Would the honorable gentleman from Bulon kindly yield the floor? His time is up! Mr. President!" The representative from Novo Kongor, Ubsa Nor, was shouting. He had been trying for several minutes now to get the long-winded Haggl Kutmoi to yield so he could speak.

"Mr. Kutmoi, please yield to the honorable gentleman from, er," the President of the Confederation Congress had to consult his roster to remember the Novo Kongor representative's name and where he came from, "the Honorable Ubsa Nor from Novo Kongor?"

Kutmoi glared at Nor, who was striding purposefully toward the rostrum. Squat, dark, powerful, Ubsa Nor had spent his youth in the mines on his home world and was not a man to be trifled with. "I yield to the honorable gentleman from Novo Kongor, Mr. President, but I will continue my remarks at a later time!" Kutmoi deliberately jostled Nor as they pa.s.sed but the man from Novo Kongor merely whispered, "There's no glory in tangling with a little shrimp like you," and mounted the platform. He adjusted his reading gla.s.ses. "Mr. President, honorable members," he began in a powerful voice that almost needed no amplification, "we of Novo Kongor stand in complete opposition to the headlong rush to war that Madam Chang-St.u.r.devant, the honorable member from Bulon, and their supporters are urging upon this august body."

"You ought to join the rebels then!" a female voice shouted.

"Order!" the president intoned.

Ubsa Nor paused, glaring at the representative who'd interrupted him. "The idea that we Kongoreans would break with this Confederation and go to war against it is unfair and also personally disgusting. But that's not all that's disgusting. The way this government has treated the people of the secessionist worlds is disgusting and I remind all the honorable members of this Congress that it was our troops who slaughtered the citizens of Ravenette, not the other way around, so it was us and not them who committed the first act of war." A tumult arose, and delegates shouted for Nor to be seated, accusing him of disloyalty and cowardice. But a few voices expressed support for what he had said.

The president called for order.

"I know how those people out there feel," Nor continued when the delegates had finally quieted. "Many of you here consider us Kongoreans no better than hairy animals who burrow in the earth and live among the ice and cold because we don't know any better and because n.o.body else would have us. You make fun of the way we talk when we're among you and I've heard all the jokes you love to tell about us, 'How does a boy from Novo Kongor know when his hut is on a level? When his dog drools out both sides of his mouth at the same time,' and on and on and on." No one laughed at that joke but it was an oft-repeated slur against the people of Novo Kongor that many people found amusing. The delegates were shamed by it into a temporary silence.

"You need the ores we mine from the unforgiving crust of our world." Nor went on, his voice rising. "Ores that my people risk their lives and health to extract in an environment so harsh none of you here, none none of you, can even imagine from the comfort and luxury of your homes, but when we ask for a fair price from your refineries you accuse us of gouging and you pa.s.s laws to protect your own industries because you say we undercut them. Do you think we're so stupid we can't see the inconsistency there?" His voice rose a full octave on the last word. "No, no, no," he waved a forefinger at the a.s.sembled delegates, "the people of those worlds in rebellion have legitimate grievances and since this government does not wish to settle them through negotiation, we of Novo Kongor say, 'Let them go their own way!' We reject Madam Chang-St.u.r.devant's call for troops and shall remain neutral in this war." He paused, removed his spectacles, bowed slightly saying, "Thank you, Mr. President, honorable members," and left the podium. of you, can even imagine from the comfort and luxury of your homes, but when we ask for a fair price from your refineries you accuse us of gouging and you pa.s.s laws to protect your own industries because you say we undercut them. Do you think we're so stupid we can't see the inconsistency there?" His voice rose a full octave on the last word. "No, no, no," he waved a forefinger at the a.s.sembled delegates, "the people of those worlds in rebellion have legitimate grievances and since this government does not wish to settle them through negotiation, we of Novo Kongor say, 'Let them go their own way!' We reject Madam Chang-St.u.r.devant's call for troops and shall remain neutral in this war." He paused, removed his spectacles, bowed slightly saying, "Thank you, Mr. President, honorable members," and left the podium.

Haggl Kutmoi was on his feet immediately, addressing his remarks directly from his seat. "I remind everyone, this government bent over backward to find ways to keep the rebels in our Confederation and it failed. Why? Because they wanted war from the beginning! And one more thing, honorable members! The gentleman from Novo Kongor forgot to inform you that the worlds now in rebellion against this Confederation are Novo Kongor's best trading partners! The embargo against trade with them has hurt the Kongoreans' pocketbooks! And I have evidence, which I shall submit at the proper time, that Novo Kongor has been ignoring the trade sanctions imposed against the rebels and is now carrying on a clandestine trade with them!"

The chamber burst into an uproar. "That is a d.a.m.ned lie!" Ubsa Nor shouted. He and the other members of the Novo Kongor delegation got up from their seats and marched out of the chamber.

The president called for order.

"So forget all this palaver about how badly they've been treated," Kutmoi continued in a whining falsetto when the noise had finally died away, "Novo Kongor's opposition to sending troops to help the rest of us has to do with money, that's all, money! And I say this, I say this to you now, people of Novo Kongor," Kutmoi raised a hand over his head and thundered at the retreating backs of the Novo Kongor delegates, "If you aren't with us, you're against us! Novo Kongor, take your ores and shove them up -"

The president called for order.

"Preston! Preston!" the representative from Hobcaw shouted over the tumult in the Coalition's senate chamber.

"Yes, Halbred," President Summers, who was presiding, acknowledged Halbred Stutz, who then stood forward to speak. "The rest of you, pipe down so Stutz can say his piece!" It was Summers's responsibility as president of the Secessionist Coalition to preside over the meetings, but he did so reluctantly and with frequent snorts of bourbon. In his view, the business of government was settled in committee and backrooms, not by full sessions of the senate, which more often than not ended in shouting matches. He was finding that getting a dozen disaffected and fiercely independent worlds to agree on even the most routine matters was difficult and that government by presidential fiat, when he could get away with it, was much more effective than the democratic process. The one thing they did agree on was their willingness to fight, often among themselves.

"Preston, we agreed to movin' the guvmint way the h.e.l.l and gone out here, so Gen'rel Lyons could wreck the capital city," Halbred said, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of his fellow representatives, many of whom were not entirely sober themselves. "But gawdammit, sir-"

"Watch yer language, Halbred!" Summers shouted.

"Yessir! But Preston, gawdammit, all he's done these past weeks is sit on his hindquarters back there at his headquarters," this pun elicited a roar of approving laughter from the other delegates, " 'n exchange pleasantries with this Gen'rel Zombie! I mean, people are callin' Gen'rel Lyons 'granny,' the way he moves so d.a.m.n slow! Well, I call 'im the 'King of Spades,' Preston, the way he's diggin' all those fortifications!" More roars of laughter and catcalls from the delegates. Halbred's little pot belly shook with joy at the attention he was getting and his greasy red ringlets hung down around his collar, jiggling every time he shook his head. "Now I wanna know why you ain't yet removed him, like the Committee on the Construct-Conduct-of the War has recommended."

"Halbred, I haven't removed General Lyons because I am the commander in chief and I do not wish to remove him," Summers said, carefully p.r.o.nouncing every word. Some people, when they are excited, revert to the language or the idiom of their home regions, although they otherwise use Standard English to communicate. Just the opposite was true of Preston Summers. Several of the representatives shouted "Hear! Hear!" but others booed their disagreement. "Pipe down, gawdammit!" Summers shouted. "Gen'rel Lyons has got a strategy-"

"My a.s.s has got a strategy, which at least I can find with both hands!" Stutz shouted to the vast amus.e.m.e.nt of his cronies.

"Halbred," Summers replied carefully, "I don't have my cane with me today, but if you will permit, I'll go home 'n fetch 'im and do a job on your thick skull that you won't soon fergit!" The reference to the caning Summers had given to the Confederation representative from St. Brendan's World elicited roars of laughter, applause, and ribald comments throughout the chamber. On the verge of a desperate war, the outcome of which was severely in doubt, the representatives were enjoying the lively debate. It was a pleasant distraction from the deadly boring business of running a vast enterprise such as their Coalition. In the early stages of their rebellion, the senate had resounded with flowery speeches and the delegates threw themselves body and soul into creating a new, unified, government to conduct their mutual affairs. But that spirit of cooperation and enterprise had soon cooled amid the minutiae of running a government and the vicissitudes of war.

"You sumb.i.t.c.h!" Stutz roared, "yew manage to hobble yer old bones outta that comfortable chair of yers 'n I'll oblige by puttin' another hole in yer head!" and to emphasize the remark, he drew a pistol from his pocket, which he waved triumphantly over his head, grinning lopsidedly up at Summers.

"Fire a round!" someone shouted.

Stutz, grinning broadly now, turned to the chamber, bowed slightly, and pocketed the weapon. He turned back to Summers. "Mr. President, I believe we would dearly love to hear what that 'strategy' might be."

"Gentlemen, it's very simple, as are all good plans," Summers began in a tired voice, because it had all been explained in detail before. "Admiral de Gauss maintains his fleet in orbit around Ravenette. General Lyons, who now has an army of over a million men at his disposal, draws the Confederation reinforcements in to Fort Seymour-if they can get through the blockade, which will be costly to do- where he defeats them with his superior firepower. The Confederation's military forces are stretched very thin, gentlemen, and it will have to rely on levies, not the very best front-line troops. You know who those levies will be, city boys mostly, part-time soldiers, well-fed, well-bred boys who have no real stake in this war. They'll be up against our men, who know how to carry a gun. When the people of the Confederation start to see those long casualty lists, this war is over, gentlemen."

The chamber erupted again into shouting and applause.

"So that, Halbred, is why good ol' Gen'rel Lyons has laid siege to Fort Seymour and is in no hurry to take it, which he could do in five minutes flat. It's a magnet, it'll draw 'em in and he'll squash 'em."

"Well, that sounds mighty fine, Preston," Stutz shouted, "but ain't you forgot somethin'? Ain't you forgot them hard-a.s.sed Marines the Confederation's got jist waitin' to get in here, to kick our doors wide open? They done it before in plenty o' other wars."

"I have not forgotten, Halbred." Summers took another surrept.i.tious sip of whiskey. The question of Lyons's relief had been settled, for now, and it was time to move on to another matter. "Halbred, kindly yield to the Minister of Public Health, who is going to give us an update on the war on disease."

Summers leaned back and closed his eyes as the Minister of Public Health took the floor. No, neither Summers nor General Lyons had "forgotten" about the Confederation Marines. Preston Summers did not know which he feared worse, Marines or the plague. But the Old Snort he was sipping had left a very pleasant aftertaste in his mouth and as it warmed its way through his vitals, the sharp edge of the affairs of state dulled and he started to see things more clearly. "Yep," he whispered, "all things considered, I'd rather fight the plague."

"Mr. President, I have the most important news! I had to bring it in person," General Davis Lyons stood in Preston Summers's study, breathing heavily.

"Relax, Gen'rel, have a seat. I have news for you too," Summers said from where he'd been sitting. He had been drinking this evening, as he'd been doing almost every evening since the war began.

"Sir, this cannot wait-"

"Lemme tell you my news first," Summers smiled, "and then you tell me yours." He gestured at an empty chair but Lyons remained standing.

"Preston, this cannot wait!"

"It'll have to. Gen'rel, the Committee on the Conduct of the War has formally asked me to dismiss you as the commander in chief of our armed forces. And the senate is forming a resolution to that effect."

"Politics!" Lyons sneered. He sat down heavily in the chair Summers had offered. "If these a.s.ses on the committee don't stop interfering with me we'll lose any chance we ever had of winning this war. Who'd you replace me with?"

"Admiral de Gauss."

Lyons laughed outright. "Politicians," he shook his head. "Those surrender terms they forced me to offer Cazombi, and you endorsed them, would've insulted a guttersnipe."

"Yep. Politicians," Summers shrugged. "You know I support you, one hundred percent, but even I gotta bow to the reality of political life." He leaned forward and offered some bourbon to Lyons, who summarily waved the whiskey away. Summers shrugged and splashed a finger of the rich brown fluid into his own gla.s.s.

"Preston, you've got to cut down on that stuff."

"Gen'rel, yer sittin' there, complaining about politicians messing in your business, kindly refrain from telling me how to cope with my own problems." He held up his whiskey gla.s.s and regarded it in the light. "Down the hatch!" He threw the whiskey back and shuddered.

"I've never understood how some men can regard alcohol so reverently. If it makes you shudder like that, Preston, why drink the stuff?"

"Ahhhh," Preston wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, "it does taste like lubricant outta one of yer tanks, but good, but good! Now, Gen'rel, we are a democracy, this Coalition of ours. We have a const.i.tution that establishes powers and responsibilities and tells us who's got 'em and who don't."

"I know all that."

"Well, jist bear with me. I am bound by that const.i.tution to consider the advice of the senate committees when rendered and that applies to the Committee on the Conduct of the War. Sure, what they say don't make a lot of sense to a military man like yourself. But it's a quid pro quo situation, Gen'rel. They 'advise' me, Do This or You Don't Get That, 'n that's the reality. Two senators sittin' on that committee, Halbred Stutz from Hobcaw and Jenks Moody, from Mylex, flat tole me, issue the rewritten surrender terms or no more military support from their home worlds. And I don't need to tell you how much we're relyin' on the support Mylex has given us. They think yer too slow to reduce that fort and they think you're mollycoddlin' our enemies. They want me to replace you with de Gauss or someone else."

"I serve at your pleasure," Lyons answered stiffly.

Summers snorted. "Dammit, man, I ain't gonna replace you! I understand what you're doin'! You just gotta bear with these a.s.ses. Look, the longer we can draw this out the better it is because we got allies in the Confederation who don't want no part of a fight with us. That's why ol' Chang-St.u.r.devant ain't gone to the Confederation Congress and asked for a formal declaration of war! She don't have the votes and if she put it to a vote and lost, her whole administration would look bad. So you pin 'em down out there on Pohick Bay, chew up them replacements as they're fed in, and sooner or later the Confederation's gonna ask to negotiate and then we've got what we want."

"You must support me, Preston."

"I have, I am, and I will. But you have just gotta give a little. Why the h.e.l.l raise sand over these surrender terms? You don't even want no prisoners."

"Because it is not right to offer dishonorable terms to a valiant enemy. Preston, I knew Cazombi would not accept the original terms, but there's a protocol that should be followed."

"Gen'rel," Summers held up a hand, "I will never understand you military men. You kill each other one minute and then worry about 'honor' and 'protocol' the next."

"And I will never understand you politicians, Preston," Lyons responded softly. "You scream for war, but you want to wage it through compromise and negotiation."

"Wall," Summers laughed, "so long as we both don't understand each other-" He offered the whiskey bottle again and this time Lyons accepted. They sipped in silence and then Summers said, "Gen'rel, I like these talks with you. They're good for the both of us. You know what yer doin', so you keep doin' it 'n I'll watch yer back for you in the senate. Agreed?"

Lyons smiled, "Yessir. Say, Preston, may I trouble you for one of your cigars?"

Summers took a cigar from the humidor, clipped one end, and handed it to Lyons. "Gen'rel," he offered a light, "I got some other news for you, off the subject, but somethin' you should know."

Lyons, head wreathed in cigar smoke, nodded.

"That galloping form of TB that carried off your Tommy-Gen'rel, it's showed up in some other kids. We might jist have an epidemic on our hands."

Lyons went cold. Their children were dying on the battlefield and in the nursery. And the killing had only just begun. "Preston, I guess in view of what you've just told me my news isn't all that important after all. I just thought you should know that Admiral de Gauss reports his ships have detected the Confederation fleet."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The bridge of the heavy cruiser CNSS Kiowa Kiowa was quiet, with only the soft was quiet, with only the soft pings pings of monitors, the metallic of monitors, the metallic tings tings of settling metal, and the muted voices of officers giving commands and crew responding. Just the normal sounds of a navy ship approaching hostile forces. The tension, though high, wasn't palpable; what could be felt was more along the lines of violent-action-in-waiting. of settling metal, and the muted voices of officers giving commands and crew responding. Just the normal sounds of a navy ship approaching hostile forces. The tension, though high, wasn't palpable; what could be felt was more along the lines of violent-action-in-waiting.

The tensest, though outwardly one of the calmest, person on the bridge was Commander Inap Solwara, the ship's captain. The main reason for Captain Solwara's tension was in the command chair mounted next to his; Rear Admiral Hoi Yueng, commander of Task Force 79, then only a few hours away from engaging the Coalition navy cordon around Ravenette, to clear the way for the Amphibious Battle Group following TF79. Admiral Hoi had selected the Kiowa Kiowa as his flagship for the hastily thrown together task force. While Solwara had been in battle before as skipper of a destroyer, it would be his first time on the bridge of a flagship going into battle. Sitting next to the admiral, he found, was quite different from being the senior man on his own ship. as his flagship for the hastily thrown together task force. While Solwara had been in battle before as skipper of a destroyer, it would be his first time on the bridge of a flagship going into battle. Sitting next to the admiral, he found, was quite different from being the senior man on his own ship.

"Relax, Captain," Admiral Hoi said softly. Solwara was pleased that he didn't jerk at the unexpected words. "I'll be heading for my CIC shortly, you won't have me looking over your shoulder during action."

"Sir, I . . ."

"Nonsense, Inap. A captain is always nervous the first time his ship is the flagship. I wouldn't have planted my flag on the Kiowa Kiowa if I didn't have full confidence in you. When the battle begins, fight your ship the same as you would if I was on another ship." if I didn't have full confidence in you. When the battle begins, fight your ship the same as you would if I was on another ship."

"Yessir." That shouldn't be difficult. Once the admiral was in his Combat Information Center, directing the entire task force, Solwara should have no more awareness of him than he would if the admiral weren't on the Kiowa Kiowa at all. at all.

Should. But the captain knew that some things were more difficult than they should be, and forgetting the presence of an admiral was one of the more difficult ones.

Hoi studied the trid schematic displayed on the big screen on the bulkhead in front of the helmsman and found it odd. The same three destroyers...o...b..ted Ravenette in equatorial orbits just below geosync. The same three medium and two heavy cruisers circled the planets in lower orbits, only two of them in circ.u.mpolar orbits. The four fast frigates moved constantly among the other warships.

Why were they concentrating on equatorial?

Starships reentering s.p.a.ce-3 from Beams.p.a.ce almost always made the transition several days' inertial flight above or below the plane of the ecliptic in order to reduce the odds of occupying the same s.p.a.ce as a piece of s.p.a.ce debris, with possibly catastrophic results. Task Force 79 had entered s.p.a.ce-3 along the plane, less than half the normal distance from the objective planet, and used its transition momentum and simple gravity to move its starships toward Ravenette. That admittedly risky tactic, combined with the stealth capabilities of the task force's starships, should have allowed TF79 to approach within a standard day of orbit before it was spotted by the planetary defense system, which would normally be oriented to approaches from above and below the ecliptic.