High Ur Orbit, Atlantica
2325
“Enter,” General Dick Richardson said, looking up from his desk.
Colonel Rafa Oleastro floated in, sticking his feet in a handhold and saluted. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“At ease, Raf,” Dick said with a smile, gesturing to the bolted down chair. “Take a seat. Refreshment? I'd break out the alcohol, but we do need to go over business.”
“But we're going over it unofficially?” Rafa asked, raising an eyebrow as he sat down. “I'll take an energy drink. I can never handle the sludge you call coffee.”
“Better than battery acid,” Richardson said, chuckling as he pulled a can out of a mini fridge and gently pushed it, the can floating over the table. “But yes, I want to go over some things with you as friends and colleagues before it becomes official.”
“Shoot,” Oleastro said, cracking the seal on the non-carbonated drink. “Still repairing your gravity plates?”
“No, I happen to like zero-g,” Dick said, smirking at Rafa's eye roll. “Those CW missiles were brutal to our reaction mass tanks, we're patching the holes before putting anything under gravitational loading. Which brings me to the first item. We need to keep up the bombardment, while still getting what we can back to Atlantica and secure the other asteroid bases. The Doss is bringing some replacement parts, so we'll be able to get the Speakers and Huey back up, but the rest of the space is taken up by replacement missiles, so the other seven Statesmen and the Chairmen are going to be stuck here until more replacement parts can be brought up. Which works, cause we need to leave a bombardment group here to keep the pockets of MA partisans quiet until we can get more ground forces here. Make sense?”
“Sure,” Oleastro said with a nod. “Planning on going somewhere else?”
“Sadly,” Dick said, sighing as he took a sip from his flask. “I like being a tactician, I'm even good at it. But being forced to take this fight when I thought it was a bad idea because the politicians thought otherwise was… frustrating. I turned down the last offer for a desk at the Mass to be on the frontline. Got the offer again just now. Clearly Sol is where I need to be if I want to have more of an impact in the war effort.”
“Hmm,” Rafa murmured, looking around the office. “Had any problem with pests recently?”
“We're clean from listening devices, yes,” Dick said, pulling a loose power cord from where it'd usually be plugged into the computer console. “That's why I told you to not bring any electronics.”
“Cool,” Oleastro said, rubbing his temples as he gathered his thoughts. “I agree that you'll have better luck making policy changes closer to home, but what if the politicians decide to do something real stupid? Like fully escalate with the CW or spark a Sol-side civil war?”
“That is the problem,” Dick said with a frown. “Only so much you can do as an apolitical general.”
Rafa snorted. “Like that really exists,” he said. “I know you don't like it, but there's games you can play if you want to have an impact. Schmooze with the corpos, appear at political fundraisers. Introverted or not, that's the rules of engagement you'll have. Unless you want to skip straight to more…direct methods?”
“Not if I can help it,” Richardson said with a grimace. “For one thing, I don't know where the various Sol forces’ mindsets lie. Plenty of grumbling in Port Elysium and the Jovian colonies. The security services on Earth itself are paid well though. Doubt they'd like a change in the status quo.”
“Depends on their morale,” Rafa said with a shrug, taking a sip from his drink.
“All of which ignores that throwing a military coup on the civilian government would be unprecedented since the Consolidation,” Dick said. “Zhongzhi doesn't count.”
“Committing to a disastrous war where the homeland is at risk is unprecedented since the Consolidation,” Rafa said. “Like I said during the planning meeting, going to war with the HFR and CW risks turning a civil war into a multi-front interstellar conflict. Nuclear exchanges, ground war on Earth. And that's before you consider that anything with a fusion engine is capable of wiping cities off the map or orbitals out of the sky by throwing itself at it.”
Dick frowned at the thought, looking at the coffee bulb and wishing it had alcohol in it. “Is this how the generals under Nixon felt when he drunkenly ordered nuclear retaliation on North Korea?” he asked.
“Just need to put you in Kissinger's shoes then,” Oleastro said.
“I'll try to not commit any war crimes,” Richardson said, shaking his head before finishing his coffee off. “So, I'm leaving you in charge, move around resources as you see fit. I'll take the Doss back to Sol, so you can move over to the Huey if you want.”
“Maybe,” Oleastro said. “Would feel weird to literally sit in your chair.”
“Up to you,” Dick said with a shrug. “I want to take Shinji and Major Schembri along as well.”
“The guy who went through the Atlantica node and was held hostage for a bit?” Rafa asked, eyebrow raised.
“Has a level head and is a native Plutonian, I can think of a few uses for him,” Dick said.
“Feel free,” Oleastro said, getting up and saluting. “Send me the orders when you have them officially written up, General.”
“Of course, Colonel,” Richardson said, smiling as he returned the salute.
—
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Shinji asked.
“Yes, good timing, Colonel,” Dick said, setting out the coffee and its accoutrements. “Gravity’s back on, so you don't have to deal with my straight black coffee.”
“Thank God for damage control teams,” Shinji said, setting to mixing his preferred drink. “Congratulations for the promotion.”
“Thanks, Shinji,” Dick said, sitting down with his own drink. “I did want to talk about an opportunity for you.”
“So I'm not fired for my bungling of the skirmish against the Assembly?” Shinji asked, sitting down across from the General.
“No,” Richardson said, enjoying the aroma of his cup. “I'd told you to not use most of your missiles in that part of the fight. And honestly the information about their own missile capabilities was useful. Ideally you would have done that in one salvo, but no one died, so all's well that ends well.”
“Then what's the opportunity?” the Colonel asked.
“How do you like teaching?” Dick asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“It's alright,” Shinji said, head tilted to the side. “Depends on the subject.”
“I want you to train the next cadre of ship commanders,” the General said. “Personally, I'd love to do it myself, but I'm going to be too busy. Besides, you've got the widest exposure to how different nations fight in the fleet, including me since you were able to do wargames with the HFR.”
“I suppose that could be the case,” The Colonel said, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Guess I'd just be concerned about the saying ‘If you can't do, teach.’”
“Get me a decent sized cadre and you can be their Admiral once they're ready,” Dick said, waving away the concern. “If I thought you couldn't do the job, I'd stick you on a desk in Asphodel's belly filling out logistics paperwork.”
“Good to know what the failure mode is,” Shinji said with a snort. “I'll take it. Who are the students going to be?”
“Mix of new students and the non-commanding officers of the 6th fleet,” the General said, nodding as the junior officer raised an eyebrow. “They’ve been cleared after the prisoner exchange and mandated administrative leave. I’ll meet with some at the Mass, but I think they’ll be biting at the bit to get back at the Assembly.”
“To prove themselves to some extent,” the Colonel said with a nod. “Fair enough. I accept. When do we leave?”
“Once the Doss finishes unloading and I finish a couple of other things,” Dick said, finishing his coffee. “Feel free to get a refill.”
“Aye, sir,” Shinji said, taking the soft dismissal, refilling his cup, and walking out.
2325
“Enter,” General Dick Richardson said, looking up from his desk.
Colonel Rafa Oleastro floated in, sticking his feet in a handhold and saluted. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“At ease, Raf,” Dick said with a smile, gesturing to the bolted down chair. “Take a seat. Refreshment? I'd break out the alcohol, but we do need to go over business.”
“But we're going over it unofficially?” Rafa asked, raising an eyebrow as he sat down. “I'll take an energy drink. I can never handle the sludge you call coffee.”
“Better than battery acid,” Richardson said, chuckling as he pulled a can out of a mini fridge and gently pushed it, the can floating over the table. “But yes, I want to go over some things with you as friends and colleagues before it becomes official.”
“Shoot,” Oleastro said, cracking the seal on the non-carbonated drink. “Still repairing your gravity plates?”
“No, I happen to like zero-g,” Dick said, smirking at Rafa's eye roll. “Those CW missiles were brutal to our reaction mass tanks, we're patching the holes before putting anything under gravitational loading. Which brings me to the first item. We need to keep up the bombardment, while still getting what we can back to Atlantica and secure the other asteroid bases. The Doss is bringing some replacement parts, so we'll be able to get the Speakers and Huey back up, but the rest of the space is taken up by replacement missiles, so the other seven Statesmen and the Chairmen are going to be stuck here until more replacement parts can be brought up. Which works, cause we need to leave a bombardment group here to keep the pockets of MA partisans quiet until we can get more ground forces here. Make sense?”
“Sure,” Oleastro said with a nod. “Planning on going somewhere else?”
“Sadly,” Dick said, sighing as he took a sip from his flask. “I like being a tactician, I'm even good at it. But being forced to take this fight when I thought it was a bad idea because the politicians thought otherwise was… frustrating. I turned down the last offer for a desk at the Mass to be on the frontline. Got the offer again just now. Clearly Sol is where I need to be if I want to have more of an impact in the war effort.”
“Hmm,” Rafa murmured, looking around the office. “Had any problem with pests recently?”
“We're clean from listening devices, yes,” Dick said, pulling a loose power cord from where it'd usually be plugged into the computer console. “That's why I told you to not bring any electronics.”
“Cool,” Oleastro said, rubbing his temples as he gathered his thoughts. “I agree that you'll have better luck making policy changes closer to home, but what if the politicians decide to do something real stupid? Like fully escalate with the CW or spark a Sol-side civil war?”
“That is the problem,” Dick said with a frown. “Only so much you can do as an apolitical general.”
Rafa snorted. “Like that really exists,” he said. “I know you don't like it, but there's games you can play if you want to have an impact. Schmooze with the corpos, appear at political fundraisers. Introverted or not, that's the rules of engagement you'll have. Unless you want to skip straight to more…direct methods?”
“Not if I can help it,” Richardson said with a grimace. “For one thing, I don't know where the various Sol forces’ mindsets lie. Plenty of grumbling in Port Elysium and the Jovian colonies. The security services on Earth itself are paid well though. Doubt they'd like a change in the status quo.”
“Depends on their morale,” Rafa said with a shrug, taking a sip from his drink.
“All of which ignores that throwing a military coup on the civilian government would be unprecedented since the Consolidation,” Dick said. “Zhongzhi doesn't count.”
“Committing to a disastrous war where the homeland is at risk is unprecedented since the Consolidation,” Rafa said. “Like I said during the planning meeting, going to war with the HFR and CW risks turning a civil war into a multi-front interstellar conflict. Nuclear exchanges, ground war on Earth. And that's before you consider that anything with a fusion engine is capable of wiping cities off the map or orbitals out of the sky by throwing itself at it.”
Dick frowned at the thought, looking at the coffee bulb and wishing it had alcohol in it. “Is this how the generals under Nixon felt when he drunkenly ordered nuclear retaliation on North Korea?” he asked.
“Just need to put you in Kissinger's shoes then,” Oleastro said.
“I'll try to not commit any war crimes,” Richardson said, shaking his head before finishing his coffee off. “So, I'm leaving you in charge, move around resources as you see fit. I'll take the Doss back to Sol, so you can move over to the Huey if you want.”
“Maybe,” Oleastro said. “Would feel weird to literally sit in your chair.”
“Up to you,” Dick said with a shrug. “I want to take Shinji and Major Schembri along as well.”
“The guy who went through the Atlantica node and was held hostage for a bit?” Rafa asked, eyebrow raised.
“Has a level head and is a native Plutonian, I can think of a few uses for him,” Dick said.
“Feel free,” Oleastro said, getting up and saluting. “Send me the orders when you have them officially written up, General.”
“Of course, Colonel,” Richardson said, smiling as he returned the salute.
—
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Shinji asked.
“Yes, good timing, Colonel,” Dick said, setting out the coffee and its accoutrements. “Gravity’s back on, so you don't have to deal with my straight black coffee.”
“Thank God for damage control teams,” Shinji said, setting to mixing his preferred drink. “Congratulations for the promotion.”
“Thanks, Shinji,” Dick said, sitting down with his own drink. “I did want to talk about an opportunity for you.”
“So I'm not fired for my bungling of the skirmish against the Assembly?” Shinji asked, sitting down across from the General.
“No,” Richardson said, enjoying the aroma of his cup. “I'd told you to not use most of your missiles in that part of the fight. And honestly the information about their own missile capabilities was useful. Ideally you would have done that in one salvo, but no one died, so all's well that ends well.”
“Then what's the opportunity?” the Colonel asked.
“How do you like teaching?” Dick asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“It's alright,” Shinji said, head tilted to the side. “Depends on the subject.”
“I want you to train the next cadre of ship commanders,” the General said. “Personally, I'd love to do it myself, but I'm going to be too busy. Besides, you've got the widest exposure to how different nations fight in the fleet, including me since you were able to do wargames with the HFR.”
“I suppose that could be the case,” The Colonel said, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Guess I'd just be concerned about the saying ‘If you can't do, teach.’”
“Get me a decent sized cadre and you can be their Admiral once they're ready,” Dick said, waving away the concern. “If I thought you couldn't do the job, I'd stick you on a desk in Asphodel's belly filling out logistics paperwork.”
“Good to know what the failure mode is,” Shinji said with a snort. “I'll take it. Who are the students going to be?”
“Mix of new students and the non-commanding officers of the 6th fleet,” the General said, nodding as the junior officer raised an eyebrow. “They’ve been cleared after the prisoner exchange and mandated administrative leave. I’ll meet with some at the Mass, but I think they’ll be biting at the bit to get back at the Assembly.”
“To prove themselves to some extent,” the Colonel said with a nod. “Fair enough. I accept. When do we leave?”
“Once the Doss finishes unloading and I finish a couple of other things,” Dick said, finishing his coffee. “Feel free to get a refill.”
“Aye, sir,” Shinji said, taking the soft dismissal, refilling his cup, and walking out.