First Command (23 page)

“The Feast of Ascension. It’s the most sacred day for Followers of Higard the main, local religion. That’s why these fellows seem to be in their own little world. Followers of Higard are supposed to spend the two weeks leading up to the feast fasting, and praying in their spare moments making silent reflection to repent for their sins. Then on feast day, everyone cuts loose and there is a huge party rather like Mardi Gras on Earth or First Planting back home. It’s a fascinating faith. The Followers of Higard is really a mix of Old Norse paganism with Protestant Christian and Muslim teachings. I believe they think God is a multi-faceted, multi-faced fellow who was a kind of grand sculptor of the universe building it for us to inhabit then leaving us to seek out that which is most sacred knowledge.” Garrett shook his head, and said something Jonathan didn't understand in what sounded like Old English “
Ga Damun Hegans oll.”
Glancing at Jonathan, he shook his head, “At any rate, good notion about the dead pods. How'd you ever think of it?”

Jonathan shrugged in reply, “My father fought in the Secession war after the initial landing on Hera. The Secessionists managed to get enough of their OD grid back online to deny the Unionists orbital superiority, at least until Hammer Fall.  The Unionists used dead pod drops to resupply their troops in Western Agamemnon for a while, before they captured the spaceport at New Cheyenne.”

Garrett nodded, “And your father never used the technique himself? He was a smuggler, wasn't he?”

Jonathan wasn't surprised that Garrett had asked that. He’d known a few OMI men in his time. Most were nice enough fellows, but Garrett was Special Branch. Special Branch men had a great deal of information at their fingertips, and a great deal of leeway when sniffing out threats to the Republic. They were a slimy bunch, spooks among spooks, as Commodore Sun had been fond of saying ‘so damn spooky they scare the shit out of all the other spooks’. Jonathan smiled at the OMI man, “My father’s smuggling activities were never proven.”

Garrett just nodded, “Your file did say you were a clever one, chess player correct?”

“Only middling. I was much better at boxing.”

“You answer directly, and definitively, and don't answer a question with a question. Glad to see someone pays attention in those counter interrogation classes they teach at Overwatch.”

“Are you interrogating me Major?”

Garrett shook his head, “You must forgive me. Human interaction isn’t my strong spot. I interrogate everyone, that’s why I’m good at my job,” a small grin broke Garrett’s lips. “Speaking of, I read your man Krishna’s report on possible foreign support for our insurgents. I have to say he hit the nail on the head.  It lines up perfectly with my own analysis except I don't think he is correct.”

Despite his best efforts, Jonathan couldn’t help asking about that one, “Uh, you think he’s right and wrong at the same time?”

“Yes. You see the NHLF and their government in exile is definitely receiving foreign backing, and definitely from a government. NGO’s and Corpos are far too clever to mess with the Republic after the Jordeen Incident.”

Garrett was referring to an incident roughly sixty years before, when a New Madrid based Mega Corp tried to fund a putsch on a Solarian client world, confident they were isolated from retaliation by their status and political connections. Of course there were no indictments, but shortly after the putsch was put down the company’s stock tanked as damaging internal memos were stolen then leaked. The corpo went belly up, and over the next three years after the failed coup, one by one members of the board of directors and their extended families were all killed quite violently. There had been allegations an OMI hit squad was behind it, but of course that could never be proven. The message, though, was clear: if you thought you had immunity from retaliation by the Republic, you'd better have an army and navy behind you, otherwise you and yours were finished.

“As for Governments,” Garrett continued. “The Dominion is too clumsy, the Confederacy is too divided. One of them, or elements of their military or intelligence service, may be involved in a small way, but no, the mastermind, if you will, is far better organized, clever enough to cover their tracks, and to make sure their proxies keep those tracks covered. Of course...” Garrett stopped in mid sentence, and grinned like a shark that had spotted its prey. He rose and strode off without another word, leaving Jonathan to wonder, not for the first time, if the OMI Major was completely stark raving mad. 

Chapter XI

Southwest Highlands, Frihitland, New Helsinki

Camp Liberty, Insurgent Stronghold

February 20
th
841 AE (2802 AD) 11:00 Local Time

Colonel-General Gustav Valbern formerly of the 39
th
Helsinki Hussar Guard, and now Commander-in-Chief of the Loyal New Helsinki Liberation Front swore violently, and threw his already cracked coffee mug against his hut’s thatch wall. Gustav had served the Swervijik  dynasty with absolute loyalty ever since his first induction into the Army at seventeen, as had his father and grandfather. It had been Gustav’s great-great grandfather Aldolfus Valbern who had been instrumental in bringing most of the army over to the Swervijik side when they’d launched the palace coup that brought them to power. Five generations of loyal service to a family that seemed to become more and more deranged with each passing generation.

“Is there a problem Gustav?” said a nasally voice behind him.

Gustav turned to face the small-framed, blond haired green-eyed figure of Yaguard Swervijik, heir to the New Helsinki Directorship and sole surviving legitimate member of the Swervijik dynasty.

“Excellency,” Gustav said. “What in the name of the almighty gods possessed you to order our cell’s in the city to commit those actions and why was I not informed…I'M THE GODS DAMNED LEADER OF THIS SHIT BUCKET ARMY !!!.” Gustav referred to the god in the plural as all followers of Higard did. This demonstrated the plurality of the singular sacred being, and also because some how it made swearing so much more colorful.

Gustav’s bellowing rage sent the birds and his subordinates alike scrambling. Gustav’s temper was legendary, and no one wanted to be around when he lost it.

Yaguard for his part seemed unfazed. Few things’ fazed’ him in truth. Certainly not the ranting’s of his late father’s favorite lap dog.

“Temper, temper General, you forget who you speak to.”

Gustav knew he needed to calm down, but his rage got the better of him. “I’ve been running this war for almost ten years, and I’ve done it by spilling the blood of good Helsinkian's, and not once have I even thought of stooping to something so..so..reckless. We lost almost 900 good men in that little stunt, and we’re bound to lose more over the next two weeks as they sniff out the cells. How are we suppose to seize the capital in Operation Rain if our army has evaporated?” Gustav could barely control his rage. Operation Rain was a good plan, a solid plan, but Yaguard had just jeopardized the whole thing.

Yaguard smiled at Gustav, “General the plan has changed somewhat, with this failed ‘revolt’ the Solarians and their lackeys will think they have us cornered. More importantly, with their navy ship in orbit and their Marines breaking down doors, our pawns will have even more justification to support the liberation of the system. Do not worry, Operation Rain will go ahead as scheduled and you will have all the men and material you need to play your part.  When Operation Rain kicks off, I will be restored to my father's throne and when I am, I’ll remember who had the stomach to help me. I’m sure I’ll count you among them General.”

“But what if the Solarians go on alert? Call out the Auxiliaries? What do we do then?” Gustav asked angrily.

Yaguard smiled, “That's precisely what
she
hopes they’ll do general. The Solies are creatures of habit. Their contingency plans are often similar. Our guest wants the Solies to mobilize. Once they do, more Auxiliaries will be stationed in the cities, townships, or reinforcing remote firebases that will just make them better targets for when our friends arrive. If they stay in their barracks, we might have our own insurgency in a few years, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle them General. You have managed to learn the guerilla trade over the last ten years.”

Gustav could do nothing but nod. The little bastard was right. His ‘diversion’ hadn’t jeopardized the bigger plan, and in some ways might be a blessing. If the Solarians did mobilize, it would highlight their dispositions. 

Yaguard, seeing he’d won, turned and calmly walked from the hut, but not before he’d turned and smugly added, “Just remember, General, who has the true power here.”

After Yaguard had left, Gustav closed the hut door and poured himself a glass of strong liquor. He’d hoped when he’d helped to smuggle young Yaguard off world before the final Solarian offensive had caused the last resistance to collapse, the ruthlessness the Swerjicks were so well known for had skipped a generation. Unfortunately, with Yaguard it seemed to have gotten worse. He’d already had two of his bastard brothers, and three of his Regent Ministers murdered. Gustav didn’t plan to join them, so he did his best to bow and scrape and hold his tongue, just as he’d done with Yaguard’s father may the bastard rot in hell. The worst part was Gustav didn't want to fight any more, but he knew the things he’d done before the war and during it guaranteed him a short drop and sudden stop if the Solarians ever caught him. That meant his fate was tied to Yaguard’s success or failure, reason enough for another drink or two.

Gustav was pouring himself a fifth drink as someone softly knocked on his door, “What!” Gustav said gruffly, ready to unleash another torrent of anger on the unfortunate who was intruding on his sulking.

“Why so unhappy General?” said the husky female voice from the doorway. Gustav turned unable to resist smiling, as he looked up. Yaguard’s return from the Locke system four weeks ago to oversee the implementation of Operation Rain hadn’t been all-bad; he’d brought
her
with him. Andrea hadn’t given Gustav her last name nor had he asked for it. Tall and well formed with auburn hair and piercing blue eyes, she was the representative of Yaguard’s new benefactors, and Gustav suspected the real architect behind Yaguard’s plan to retake power. Even in the green utilities she was wearing she managed to move gracefully. “Pour me one Gustav,” she said. He did, and they both downed it with one gulp.

Then she moved closer, “Gustav, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know about today, but Yaguard likes playing general, and now the Solarians will be expending their efforts to roll up our urban network rather than sniffing around where we don’t want them.” Her smile was very promising. Gustav set down his glass, and nodded.

“I forgive you Andrea, but I’m going to need compensation.”

She smiled seductively as she kicked the door closed, and started to undo her fatigues.

On board
RSNS Titan
DD-0023 New Helsinki System, Solarian Republic,

In Low Orbit New Helsinki, Mid Ship Gymnasium

February 21st  841 AE  (2802 AD) 04:20hrs Local time

The leather punching bag swung as Jonathan came around with another sidekick followed close by two short jabs. It had taken nearly two full days for Jonathan and lieutenants Krishna and Chan to get clearance to return to orbit. This was mostly because of political wrangling between Brigadier Treos and the Helsinkin Commander General Borlov. Operation CORNET, as Treos’ response to the insurgent attacks was called, had called for very little direct navy support. Treos had of course tried to co-op
Titan’s
entire Marine contingent, but Jonathan had put his foot down and the Brigadier had agreed to use of half of the contingent including one of the Testudo fire teams.
Titan’s
main role would be reconnaissance and communications support, which Jonathan, as her Captain, was happy to provide. However, Borlov’s and Treos’ bickering had meant Governor Curtis wasn't letting anyone leave until the plan was finalized. When everything was sorted, finally, and the timetable established, Jonathan and his officers had boarded their shuttle and returned to
Titan
late the previous night. Jonathan had been impressed at the state of the ship upon his return. Commander Trendale had placed the crew on alternating combat alert and training shifts, allowing him to continue the training schedule while at the same time be ready for action at a moment’s notice. Trendale, acting on his own initiative, had also deployed
Titan’s
sentry probe net to monitor all of New Helsinki’s wormways. Of course Trendale had managed to thoroughly undermine all these accomplishments by feigning sickness when Jonathan and the other officers returned, sending Lt. Commander Gopal to meet them in his stead. That was the straw that broke the camels back for Jonathan. His XO was obviously a competent and professional officer, but he seemed to have the emotional maturity of a three year old. Whatever his faults, it was Jonathan who was the most to blame. Rather than dealing with Trendale’s petulant attitude early on, as he should have, Jonathan had allowed Trendale’s tantrums to fester further emboldening him. Jonathan knew that this lack of leadership on his part was because of his excitement for finally getting a command. Despite knowing how to handle a crew from years of training and watching his father deal with
Wanderer’s
spacers, Jonathan had never had any patience when it came to management of people. In a lot of ways his willful dismissal of Trendale’s attitude was very similar to his lack of patience for poor Richard Ping’s infatuation with Jonathan's old neighbor. Jonathan could have easily addressed the issue directly, but instead chose to dodge poor Richard at every turn and when cornered be less than helpful. Being master and commander, first after God on a ship of war, meant being able to address any dissention, or problems within the crew, no matter how large or small. Jonathan had resolved to finally deal with Mr. Trendale and hopefully save the ungrateful bastard’s career in the process.  Jonathan pushed his self-recriminations aside, and delivered one final resounding punch to the bag. The force was so strong that it knocked the hapless leather sack from its hook. William Trendale, who had just entered the gym when the bag landed with a thud, jumped like a startled rabbit.
Titan
wasn’t big enough to justify a private gym for the Captain, or even an officer’s gym, so instead the Marines and Officers shared one slightly smaller in mid ship, while the enlisted used a larger one back aft. William Trendale preferred to work out alone, and as such usually arrived at 4:30 a.m. then retired for breakfast as the Marines came in for morning PT at 6:00. Jonathan had known Trendale would be here this early, because he’d discreetly inquired Lt. Commander Gopal when Trendale would be alone. Gopal had been reluctant at first, but Jonathan reassured him that he just wanted a private conversation with Trendale.