Commodore (10 page)

"Also, as you've certainly inferred, I've been instructed by the highest authorities on your side to do absolutely
nothing
that might potentially expose me to my own government for what I am. I fear that I must concur with their judgment. I've only revealed myself to you here and now because of how trusted and important your own position has become. So be aware that circumstances may force me to once again fight you tooth and nail, David, even while at the same time it breaks my heart to do so. Though I'll assist you 'under the table' when and where I can, you should count on nothing whatsoever from me. My fondest hope is that we can remain 'one and one' forevermore, at least in the games that matter. I'm fully aware of how few Imperials have gotten off so lightly.

"Sincerely, Captain Sir Jason Tallsdale

"PS—Tell Nestor that he looks good in black, but the disguise isn't half so effective as he imagines. He should never stake his life on it; we Imperials are on the lookout for him almost as thoroughly as we are for you. Also, please let him know that my own personal steward Cloud wants his recipe for steamed turnip greens—he says the leftovers were some of the best he ever ate!"

16

I spent much of the remainder of the night pacing back in forth in my cabin, still wearing my galley-stained shirt and pausing from time to time to study a chart of the sector. Sir Jason was correct, I soon realized; Wilkes space with its dense concentration of jump points was indeed a perfect advanced base for the Imperial Fleet. I also had to assume that he was correct in his estimate that the Imperial Admiralty would probably take such a step; he was far more in tune with their current trains of strategic thought than I could ever be. Therefore my only logical course of action was to run for home as fast as the task force's engines could carry us, leaving the Emperor in command of all Wilkes space. Under the circumstances no one would blame me if I did exactly that; indeed, James would probably be extra-nice and make sure I knew how grateful he was to me for making the smart, difficult choice of retreating instead of the stupid, easy one of stubbornly fighting it out with an enemy I had no hope of defeating. I could almost predict James's exact words. "I sent you to exercise judgment, David. And I'm grateful that you did. I could've sent out any officer in the fleet to
lose
a task force, after all. It takes guts to know when to back down. And… Don't forget that we accepted the possibility of losing both Hashimoto
and
Wilkes when I made my bid for the crown. You preserved Hashimoto, so your mission was at least partially successful."

In my heart of hearts I knew that James was right; my task force
couldn't
stand up to the entire Imperial line of battle. Against such odds I reckoned that
Javelin
might last as long as an hour; perhaps two if she were lucky. But still… One didn't win wars by running away, and if I abandoned this planet someday it'd have to be wrenched back inch by bloodsoaked inch, at heaven only knew what cost in lives and treasure. Professor Lambert had preached the innate strategic advantage of offensive warfare over and over again back at the Academy, and I'd been one of his top students. Surely someone of my military philosophy and background could come up with something better than merely running away?

I paced and paced and paced. One of the Professor's favorite quotations came from a man named Chesty Puller, perhaps the most colorful general of marines in all history. At a time of great crisis, the press asked him if the division he commanded in a place called Korea was retreating. "Hell, no!" he replied. "We're just advancing in the other direction!" The Professor had gone on to make a lesson out of the whole affair; in some ways the marines had been doing exactly as claimed, from both a strategic and tactical point of view. The maneuver had in the end proven amazingly successful. Perhaps the same principle could be applied here and now? Maybe I
couldn't
seize and hold Wilkes Prime. But could I take another Wilkes world as a lesser trophy? Or even a nearby Imperial one?

Then I examined the chart and shook my head. Wilkes Prime would be too good—and too close!—an Imperial base to allow me to keep much of anything I took. They'd swat me like a fly at their leisure, whenever they felt good and ready. No, I'd not be taking any planets in
this
part of space anytime soon. Or at least not if I wanted to keep them. Wilkes Prime, with its large energy industry and the support facilities it'd developed for its huge merchant fleet, was the key to the whole region. With its infrastructure at their disposal the Imperials could romp about at will for a distance of five, perhaps even six Jumps. Nothing within that radius would be safe from them.

Well, I thought as I paced. If I couldn't invade, then perhaps I could take advantage in other ways of the fact that I knew where to expect the main battle line to appear sometime soon. For example,
Javelin
was purpose-built as a deep-penetration raider. We'd barely put a dent in her cruising range; I could detach the landing force, send them home for another commander in another sector to make good use of, and go raiding again! Yes, the convoys were escorted now. But only by small forces, intended to deter a weaker ship like
Richard
. Defending them against something like
Javelin
wasn't economically feasible. My new command was capable of blowing light escort vessels out of the sky from tremendous range, then slaughtering their charges en masse like a wolverine let loose in a henhouse. Given that I knew where the enemy would
not
be, at least for a time, I could run amok in the Imperial shipping lanes, even keeping the destroyers with me to assist with the looting until their limited ranges dictated that they had to turn for home…

Then I stopped and sighed, shaking my head. This was
Javelin
's proper role, yes. But it wasn't
my
proper role, nor was it the mission I'd been ordered to accomplish. As much as I relished the thought of gallivanting off across Imperial space with such a magnificent weapon at my disposal, I knew perfectly well that James wouldn't approve. To a degree my fame and reputation had become a ball and chain; His Majesty would far rather me return home to Earth Secundus to be given another highly-responsible if not-so-much-fun command than disappear for a year or so.  So, while I might well yet choose to detach
Javelin
for raiding I'd no longer be in command of her when she left.

I paced and paced and paced, mind a-whirl. The core of the problem was Wilkes Prime. Damn her strategic location and ship-support capabilities! The planet had massive energy-farms, huge hangers, abundant drydock space, an impressive surface-to-orbit shuttle fleet, and above all a workforce of thousands upon thousands of skilled spacers who could rapidly make any repair from a simple hull-breach to a totally-slagged engine room. I shook my head in disgust, picturing this small army of technicians servicing Imperial ships instead of our own. Couldn't they see that they were working against their own best interests? Helping to cast a pall of darkness upon the entire future of Man? But they couldn't, of course. Instead, antlike, they just slaved away…

Then suddenly I froze where I stood.
Slaved
away?

Just how many of these vital workers were Rabbits, I wondered? Then I checked the local almanac…

…and yes, it was possible. The odds were promising, even! But
oh
! The potential
cost
! Could it—could
anything
be worth the bloodletting I was considering unleashing? Maybe, I mused. There was going to be a lot of bleeding going on no matter what I did, after all. That sort of went hand-in-hand with long, interminable wars. And, perhaps there were ways to keep the bloodletting to a minimum?

In the big picture, maybe this was even the best way to minimize the bloodletting
everywhere
?

Then, at long last I smiled. Years ago, Professor Lambert had suggested to his wargaming team that the Empire might be vulnerable to rapid social change. This was because it was too rigid and hierarchical to adapt. Most of his theories had worked out pretty well when applied in the real world, so far at least. Perhaps it was time to give this one a try as well? The moment seemed right, in many, many ways. It might've been largely by chance, but all the right factors were in the right place at the right time. Where I'd been convinced that I was looking at an inevitable setback, all the time the elements of victory on the grandest scale imaginable had been sitting there waiting for me to discern them.
Go for broke!
the gamer within me screamed.
It's time to cut the enemy's heart out and eat it.

Best of all, I knew that James would support me even though I was about to break the rules in a major way by grossly overstepping my authority as a naval officer. For at heart he was a gamer too.

17

By six in the morning I'd written up all of my orders and was ready to face the demands of a new day. "Good morning," I greeted my bridge crew as I walked across the deck and sat in my command chair. Almost instantly, a bunny-steward appeared with a cup of steaming, fragrant tea. I'd never asked for such service when I arrived on the bridge, I suddenly realized. Yet it happened every single time. So Nestor must've arranged for it. Or Josiah perhaps. Good and thoughtful friends, both of them.

"Good morning, sir," Josiah replied with a smile. He looked sharp and well-rested, which was just as well as we were all about to have a very busy day. He eyed the large portfolio I'd carried onto the bridge with me, but said nothing. It was stuffed with various documents and paperwork, most of which I hoped I wouldn't have to show but probably would before the day was done. "I hope you slept well."

"Yes, thank you," I answered, even though it was a lie. Captains learned early on that their health was always peachy-keen whenever anyone asked, or else the rumors crawled up and down the corridors like cockroaches. I took a couple sips of tea to wet my throat; if I wanted to back down from my planned course of action, this was the last possible moment. But everything still made as much sense as it had in the wee hours of the morning, so I started giving orders. "Josiah," I began. "Get me Commander von Schtolen on a scrambled channel please. And Captain Harlowe, as well. Priority One." It should've been a routine request. But somehow everyone knew that it was something more. For the first time in far too long, a little wave of excitement washed across the bridge. I could only hope the ripples spread even further; a ship with a definite mission is a happy ship.

'Priority One' meant that the officers in question were to find a viewscreen and report immediately, no matter their personal situation. So I didn't even blink when Heinrich responded wearing a t-shirt and with his hair still all awry from sleep. Harlowe, however, was an earlier riser—he was at least in his uniform shirt, though he hadn't donned a tie yet. "Yes sir?" Harlowe, as the senior officer, replied for them both.

"How many hours are we from executing Plan Charlie?" I demanded.

My fellow captain blinked—Plan Charlie had been our least-likely scenario, in which our forces landed not knowing whether they'd be fired upon or not. In many ways, therefore, it was the most complex and difficult-to-execute plan. "About five, sir," Harlowe replied. At least he was competent at maintaining readiness, if not as a combat leader. For no landing officer lacking in confidence would've offered me such a daring, lowball figure.

"Good," I replied. Then I turned to Heinrich. "What's the status on Toehold?"

He smiled. It was standard Royal practice to embed a few elite, highly-trained specialists and saboteurs before a landing whenever possible. In this case, we'd also infiltrated about a dozen fencible Rabbit-marines under Heinrich's favorite midshipman while they were ostensibly loading urgently-needed ship's stores. The last I'd heard, they were waiting for orders in a safe-house loaned to us by the House of Vorsage. "They'll be ready when called upon, sir," he replied calmly. "I just updated their standing orders before breakfast."

I nodded again; that explained why such a workaholic wasn't up and dressed already. "I'm afraid we may have to change those orders, Heinrich." Their original role had been to surreptitiously set up landing beacons and the like.

He nodded slightly, even though last-minute order-changes were every officer's worst nightmare. "Yes, sir. Of course. However, the sooner the better."

"I'll take care of it right now. Your men are already in Wilkes City. I want them to accomplish two special missions for me, and I leave the means entirely to your discretion. Gentlemen, from this moment forward the House of Wilkes is to be considered a hostile power; we as thoroughly at war with them as we are with the Imperials. Do you understand?"

Another wave of excitement rolled across the bridge, and this time I was certain the ripples would spread. "Yes, sir!" Harlowe acknowledged after a long silence. "But—"

I spoke right over him, not caring to explain myself further. "We're going to execute the most efficient surprise attack possible, excepting only that our landing forces will not fire unless first fired upon. The tactical goal is to have the battle won before the fighting even really begins, and above all to capture the planetary defensive installations in as intact a state as possible. We're going to execute at exactly noon, ship's time. Not a hint of our true purpose is to be leaked to the Wilkes people. Do you understand me? Not a whisper! They mustn't have a clue until we launch the first wave of assault craft."

Now both Heinrich and Harlowe were staring at me as if I'd gone mad. Yet… Didn't they understand that this was ultimately what we'd come so far to do? "His Majesty," I explained, "will tolerate the insolence of this House no longer. Their power is to be utterly and forever broken, though as an expression of His mercy we'll keep collateral damage to the minimum." I turned to Heinrich. "I presume the Toehold people are equipped with at least one nuclear demolition mine? That is still standard practice, no?"