The Heart of Matter: Odyssey One (14 page)

On the surface, it was a simple matter, but as usual, the Council had left the complexities up to someone else. Nero didn’t have a problem with the Terrans conducting their “exercises”—not in principle, at least. However, finding a suitable area for it wasn’t as simple as one might suppose.

Within or near the cities was, of course, out of the question. That went without saying, and Nero doubted that the Terrans would actually wish to deploy in such an environment, anyway. However, the law protected all areas beyond the range of the cities and prevented their exploitation by people.

And while Nero didn’t think that the Terrans wanted to cause damage, necessarily, he had no illusions that they would be treating the land with the respect of the Priminae. Of course, that brought up another problem that was both related and unrelated.

Namely, where were his new forces to train?

Originally, each division had trained in their own underground facilities, practicing their aim and skills with simulations and low-powered lasers. It had been determined that such methods would suffice.

Nero didn’t think that Colonel Reed and his men would be impressed, however.

The big man sighed, knowing that he was going to have to bite down and face the problem head-on. There was only one solution, and as much as he hated the problems it would cause, he would do his duty.

“Cathal,” he said aloud, glancing up.

Cathal Mana, a midranked aide, looked up at the word. “Yes, Commander?”

“Contact Admiral Tanner for me. Ask him if he would receive me this day.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, stepping back, and crossed over to the naval command pit.

“Yes, Nero, you wished to see me?” Rael Tanner asked as he walked into the ground forces command pit.

“Yes,” Nero said gruffly, not looking up right away.

Rael, knowing his friend’s tendencies, waited patiently for him to finish what he was working on. Nero was a more calculating man than one might expect. His size made people underestimate his mind, something that Tanner knew well to be a massive mistake that could prove fatal if you were arrayed against the man. That said, for all his intelligence and calculating manner, Nero had been pushed to his limits by the nature of his work over the last months. His frustrations only seemed to grow as he saw both what he was up against and also just how far he and his men had to go.

Finally, Nero set his work aside, sighed, and looked up. “I have a problem, Admiral.”

“Well then, tell me about it.” Rael smiled.

“I have to file a request for a land grant,” Nero said seriously.

Rael blinked, becoming serious. “Is that necessary?”

“The Terran military advisors wish to do live-fire training, and a great deal more than our simulations will allow,” Nero replied. “In addition, the Council wishes to allow them to conduct ‘exercises.’ I do not believe the Council is aware of what this entails. I know for certain that I am not fully aware of it, yet I know enough to say that there are few areas that will suit.”

Tanner frowned, considering it. “I suppose that you are correct. However, opening a section of preserved land is not to be taken lightly.”

Nero grunted, nodding. “I’m aware.”

“Do you have any selections?”

The big man nodded, calling up a large map of the planet. On it, there were nine sections highlighted in various places, all well away from the cities Rael noted. He looked over the map, nodding. “I’ll help you run this request through, Nero…However, we’ll never be able to get it approved quickly without Central’s endorsement.”

“Do you believe that Central will agree?” Nero asked, genuinely in the dark concerning the workings of the ancient repository of knowledge.

“I am not sure,” Rael admitted. “A cycle ago, I could tell you with confidence that Central would categorically deny any such request. Today, things are different. We shall have to see just how different.”

Nero nodded in agreement.

“These are large areas you have marked off,” Rael said, looking at the map again. “Are you certain you will need this much space?”

“I had to ask Colonel Reed for a recommendation,” Nero admitted grumpily. “He listed a large array of requirements

for a training facility of the nature we are discussing, not just for our immediate needs, but for future growth as well.”

“I see.” Rael nodded, retrieving the file to his own process. “I will examine this information, Nero. Expect me later today with more questions. Then we will go to Central together.”

“Thank you, Rael.” Nero nodded his head politely, a gesture he often forgot.

“Not at all, my friend,” Admiral Tanner said softly, eyeing the map.

Afer a long moment, he shook his head.

“These are trying times,” he said regretfully, thinking of the areas that they may have to despoil in order to defend their world.

Nero grimaced, but didn’t say anything. After all, the world he’d come from had no areas left to despoil. Not even in its defense.

“Admiral?” Eric Weston tapped lightly on the door of the admiral’s office. Rael Tanner had asked him to come up a while earlier, saying that he had questions concerning one of the requests made by Colonel Reed.

Tanner was inside, sitting in front of a projected interface with which Eric was only somewhat familiar. The system was the locals’ equivalent to Eric’s desk back on the
Odyssey
, only it made use of their ability to project tangible “holographs,” for lack of a better description.

“Come in, Captain. I’m afraid that I may not be the best company today. I sent my staff out some time ago rather than expose them to my…
frustrations
.”

“Oh?” Eric raised an eyebrow.

Tanner smirked suddenly and fell back in his chair, wiping away the entire interface with a gesture. A map appeared with a detailed relief of a wilderness area. “Commander Jehan has begun filing for a land grant in accordance with Colonel Reed’s recommendation for an appropriate training area. Is all this space really necessary?”

Weston blinked, eyeing the map and trying to get a sense of scale. The script along the side of the map was in the local dialect, something that the translators didn’t do much for since they depended on vocal keys. After a moment, he shrugged and shook his head. “It looks about right, but I’m really not certain about the sense of scale, Admiral. Is there a problem with ownership of the land?”

Rael blinked, shaking his head. “No one owns the land, Captain. The land is protected by custom. We do not use more than we need. That is how we live, Captain.”

“Admiral,” Eric said after a moment’s thought, “I’m not certain what you’re asking of me.”

“Exactly what I said,” Rael replied. “I need to know if this space is really needed. Applying for a land grant is no simple matter, and it will require certain favors if I am to push it through the Council.”

Eric wished almost desperately that Colonel Reed were here to field these questions, but the admiral wasn’t asking Reed. Since the admiral undoubtedly knew where Reed was housed, the admiral didn’t want to ask Reed.

“Admiral, the colonel and his men are trained to take indigenous people and turn them into fighters. They generally work with very little but space, and not a lot of that,” Eric said truthfully. “I’m quite certain that, even without the space they’ve asked for, they can turn your soldiers into some of the finest irregulars you’ll ever see.
But
for a regular standing
army, you’ll need every square foot of the space he’s laid out for you, and maybe more besides.”

Rael Tanner leaned forward, his expression interested but troubled. “What is the difference between the two, Captain?”

Eric Weston wasn’t a foot soldier by profession, but he was a former member of the USMC, and that meant he had been trained as a foot soldier first and foremost, his flight training coming later. He was also a student of recent military history, specifically focusing on the adaptation of tactics to technology as had occurred in the last century and a half on Earth. He hadn’t spent time studying Roman tactics or replaying Civil War battles, though he knew a great many military people who did. His had been an air war, and that was the era he studied.

So this was a question he felt at least somewhat qualified to answer.

“Irregular troops can be, and often are, superior individuals in a lot of ways, Admiral,” he said, frowning as he thought about it. “In fact, quite often, they are better in many areas than the people training them. Often scouts, for example, are taken from irregular groups for their skill with the land and in tracking. Others sign on to fight because fighting is something they know intimately and do extremely well. They often bring a wildly varied yet extremely high proficiency in a certain set of skills.

“They are not, however, a functioning unit. Regular troops can have a lesser degree of these skills, on average, because of where and how they are recruited. However, unlike irregulars, they function as a unit—they become something greater than the sum of their parts,” Eric said with a smile. “And for a strong defense, you need regulars. In the long run, at least.”

“I see,” Tanner said, sighing. “I’m afraid that I do not know much about the military lifestyle from which you derive much of your knowledge, Captain. I had always considered it to be rather archaic, actually—even if I accepted that we must have weapons though we did not use them. I do know, however, that teams in the field are the way we prefer to operate when staffing our transports and exploration ships, so perhaps there is something to what you say.”

“Admiral,” Eric said, “for a good, solid defense of your people, what you need is a strong corps of soldiers who serve, not because they must, but because they see honor in it.”

This was an old debate, and he’d practiced his arguments with a good deal of gusto in university when he’d attended so many years earlier.

“Irregulars are fine for short-term defense,” he went on. “They can be superb fighters, in some situations even devastating regular detachments several times their size, while using inferior equipment and weapons. Irregular forces defending their homes are never to be underestimated. But when the immediate threat is over, these people will want to go
back
to their homes.”

Tanner shrugged. “I do not see the problem with that, Captain.”

Weston smiled, shaking his head. “There isn’t a problem with it. My own people maintain what I would call irregular troops, though we train them to operate much like the regulars do. They come together when there is a crisis and disperse back to their homes and jobs when it is over. They are a vital part of our national security.”

He paused, then went on seriously. “They are not, however, our first line of defense. Regular troops are maintained
during peacetime at great expense because one thing we know to be certain is that an enemy won’t announce his attack. Admiral, your people desperately need a strong corps of people who take
honor
in serving as the first line of defense. Not just people fighting because it is necessary at the moment.”

Tanner nodded slowly, seeming to understand, to some degree, at least.

“And for that”—Weston reached out and tapped the semi-substantial projection of the relief map—“for that, you need all this space.”

Adm. Rael Tanner nodded finally. “I see. I will forward the request for land with my endorsement, then. If Central agrees, then we might be able to clear it up relatively quickly. A few days, perhaps. If not, then it will require a great deal more time, I am very much afraid.”

Eric nodded. “It will be time well spent, Admiral. You know, I think that, in some ways, you have some advantages over us in this matter, Admiral.”

Rael looked up quizzically. “How so?”

Eric smiled. “Our people—my people have a very powerful tradition of heroics that tends to work counter to the unit concept.”

“I’m afraid I do not understand.” Tanner shrugged, shaking his head. “Heroes are to be valued, are they not?”

Eric watched that gesture, suddenly marveling at the first time that they used the same head gestures for yes and no. He pushed that thought aside, forging on. “Most military commanders hate to have a hero in their command, Admiral.”