Forging a Blade

[Acewing13]

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.

 

[Acewing13]

“Major Caleb Schembri reporting, sir,” the younger officer said, saluting the General.

“At ease,” Richardson said, returning the salute before gesturing at the chair. “Please be seated.” Once Schembri was seated, Dick looked back down at his datapad. “Military second in command of the Outremer expedition, faced hostile aliens on three planets, helped negotiate ceasefire and cooperation with the Theradectan splinter, worked with an Assembly expedition and successfully negotiated your own release.” He looked up at the younger man and gave a small smile. “Almost as busy as I’ve been.”

“Yes, sir,” Caleb said, shifting uneasily as his record was read back to him.

“Relax, Major,” Dick said with a chuckle. “I’m not going to throw you into the brig. Or criticize you continuing to act like the Assembly team had a backpack nuke when you knew otherwise. I told the troops to keep an eye on things, not to try and cause more complications by capturing technically non-aligned aliens.”

“The Grawla?” Caleb asked, tilting his head as he thought. “I guess the River City Agreement doesn’t mean that they’re involved in the war effort against us.”

“That’d be the argument I’d be pushing, yes,” Dick said with a nod. “Whether we get the chance to make that argument will depend on our diplomats and politicians.”

“Of course, sir,” the Major said, mentally relaxing while he sat ‘at ease’.

“Either way, I called you over to offer an assignment as one of my aides,” the General said. “You've shown yourself to be resilient and quick to improvise. As a member of the General Staff, I'm not going to be able to focus on any one problem at a time, regardless of its importance. Instead, you'll be a troubleshooter, given problems to dig into and come up with solutions that you can carry out immediately or direct a more permanent team to take over from you. Any questions?”

Caleb pursed his lips as he considered the offer. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” He asked.

“Granted,” Richardson said, cocking his head as he waited to see what the junior officer would bring up.

“Thank you, sir,” the Major said. “When I went to New Texas with the rest of the expedition, I met with a reporter from Asphodel, my hometown. He'd blown up on a member of my science team because they were born in Soyuz territory before naturalizing while in our school system. I asked him, impolitely, why he did that and he said that he was tired of the military funding far away research projects when there was a war on. After I'd reminded him that the project had started before the war, he got to the point. His brother had been on the Lord Palmerston when its engineering crew rebelled.”

“Ahh,” Richardson said, his hand moving to unplug his computer. “Peterson?”

“Uh, yes,” Caleb said, confused about how the General had guessed and what he was doing to the computer.

“I studied the cyber attack and helped in placing the electronic countermeasures,” Dick said with a shrug. “He was one of the security officers on the Palmerston who died before the command crew surrendered. The other was female.”

The Major took a moment to refocus on his story. “Anyway, he was grieving over that loss and was lashing out. I bring that up because it reinforced my belief that we need to only pick worthy wars. The first Atlantica campaign pushed back against the Assembly, but why did we break the ceasefire? I get I was down a rabbit hole when it started, but just unilaterally breaking the treaty seems like the worst option.”

Caleb was going to continue venting, but Richardson gestured for him to stop. “Do you have your datapad on you?” The superior officer asked.

“Huh?” The Major asked, before pulling out his personal device.

“Hand it over,” the General said, pulling out a silvery bag. The junior officer followed orders, handing the device across the desk. “You could have warned me you were going to try and fall on your sword,” Dick added, once the bag was folded and velcroed close. “Though I do appreciate the nerve.”

“Sir, can you explain what's going on?” Caleb asked, resisting the urge to rub his temples.

“I know I'm the public face of the anti-Assembly faction,” Dick said, putting the bundled up device on the desk. “And I admit, if I could follow through on jailing every Exemplar and nuking an evacuated New Cambridge, I would. However, I agree that breaking the treaty without any kind of breach on the MA's part was a bad idea. I let the political contact know that and she said if I didn't do it, she would find someone that would. And I wasn't going to take the chance of someone else fucking up, so that's where we are now. Thankfully the CW and HFR backed off once we mostly destroyed the MA fleet, because I don't know how badly we would have ended up if we had fully engaged.”

“Oh,” Caleb said, taking a moment to take that in. “And you're going up the chain of command in hopes that you can stop similar orders?”

“As best as I can,” the General said with a nod. “The whole Hawking crisis has been one bad political decision after another. Mixed military actions, even under my fleet, have regained Atlantica, but trying to deal with insurgency while also massing for an attack on the Assembly’s home system? It’s going to be a mess. Which, going back to the whole reason you’re here, I’m going to need all the help I can get. Have I settled your concerns?”

“Yes, but I now have new ones,” the Major said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “How far exactly are we going in ‘convincing’ politicians that their orders might be stupid?”

Dick smiled at the mention of ‘we’ before saying, “We need to get the lay of the land first. The difference between an in tune political base on Earth versus one that thinks everything is fine while the rest of the Sol system is on the verge of revolt are too vast to make coherent plans. Once we get to HQ and gather a base of support, we can figure out how to proceed...and how far to go.”

“I guess,” Caleb said, sighing as he put his hands on the table and looked at the General. “But how far are you willing to go, sir?”

“I'm not going to let an out of touch politician ruin my nephew's death by destroying this nation and the solar system,” the Major General said, his voice laden with pain.

The pair sat for a few moments before the junior officer coughed and said, “Fair enough. Don’t know if I’ll go as far as you, sir. But I’m willing to join the effort, if you’ll still have me.”

“Just stay honest with me,” Dick said, offering a hand across the table. “That’s all I ask.”

“Yes, sir,” Caleb said, shaking the other man’s hand.

 

[Acewing13]

High Mars Orbit
The Mass
Early 2326

Having started as the New Newport News Shipyard back two hundred years ago, the Mass was a constellation of O'Neill cylinders, zero-g fabricators, and docking stations for American Union ships that made up the central nerve center for Interstellar Operations Command. Home of the 2nd Fleet, Department of Personnel, and numerous other organizations, the Mass acted like a bureaucratic gravity well, the AU's interstellar empire orbiting around it.

And now I'm a flag officer, Major General Dick Richardson thought, resisting the urge to check his medals as he looked out of the Gleesman's window. Unlikely to get back on the command deck of a ship again. Oh well, time for Rafa and everyone else to take the torch.

Meanwhile, Major Caleb Schembri couldn't stop double checking his rank pins and campaign medals. I survive two alien snipe hunts and all of a sudden I get the attention of a two-star general, he thought, shaking his head as he wiggled the Atlantica campaign medal, catonite winking in the electric lighting. Crazy stuff.

Dick looked over at the junior officer and smirked. “If you keep touching your awards, Major, you're going to wear a hole in your uniform,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Caleb said, stiffening and putting his hands on his legs.

“At ease,” the General said, pulling out his datapad and poking it to life. “While I'm meeting the Chief of Staff, talk to the Public Works office to get office space. Going to need a SCIF (sensitive compartmented information facility), an office for me, and a set of offices or something for you and any other staff. Hopefully they have something better than an open floor plan cubicle set.”

Caleb shuddered at the thought, poking the cylinder's directory. “Looks like it's not too far from the dock, so I'll send you a message when I have it sorted out, sir,” he said.

“And ask to edit the directory as well,” Dick added, sending the junior officer a temporary digital access key. “You're the head of staff until we get someone with a higher rank and expertise in office politics.”

“Guess I need to track down a coffee pot too,” Caleb said, making some notes as the shuttle went into final approach, making a lazy spiral to match the cylinder's angular movement.

“The simpler the better,” Dick said. “I don't trust any of these people enough to not check for bugs.”

“Yes, sir,” Caleb said, as the cylinder habitat swallowed the craft, revealing the dock to be a transparent box that showed off the office buildings, apartment complexes, and parks that made up Port Harmonia, the seat of ISOC’s highest offices. The shuttle soon landed in the micro-gravity of the dock, which gave way to an increasing gravity gradient as the habitat's centrifugal force took hold.

 

[Acewing13]

“Major General Richardson,” the older man said as he held out his hand, four stars lining his collar.

“General Schneider,” Dick said, shaking the offered hand, a paltry two stars on his own collar.

“Take a seat,” Schneider said, sitting down behind a large oak desk.

Wonder where the wood came from, Richardson thought as he sat on the other side. Would be very expensive to lift from Earth.

“Congratulations on the successful campaign,” the four star said. “Only damaged ships for a near total destruction of the insurgents. Too bad for not further pushing on the HFR and CW forces, but I understand why you took their offer to withdraw.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dick said. Doubt there wouldn't be dead ships on our side if I tried instead of taking Basnet's offer. “There might end up being some hulls that end up being scrapped, but Colonel Oleastro was still doing surveys of the damage when the last report was sent.”

“Understandable,” Schneider said. “You put a lot of strain on some of those ships over the last four years. Regardless, effectively you're the only officer who's commanded American ships in a successful battle in the last five years. Sweemay tried to ride those coattails and got his ship shot for his troubles. The Lovell administration wants to see results and has given me and Secretary Abbott a lot of leeway in reorganizing ISOC. Therefore, I'm making you the Chief of Operations, covering fleet ops and organization, logistics, and anything else you want to add to that.”

Well shit, he wasn't kidding in the order letter, Dick thought. “I humbly accept, though I am wondering what pushback I might receive from Lieutenant Generals that see themselves being passed over,” he said.

“Most of them can pound sand,” the General said. “The Hawking insurrection has done a lot to highlight the rot in the military leadership of this country and a lot of people have been removed for their incompetence. Thankfully, you're not the only one that has shown they can do the work. The two other head departments reporting to me are going to be called Internal Affairs and External Affairs. Internal's going to be over budgets, personnel, and R&D, headed by Lieutenant General Cecília Rocha. She's had some time outside ISOC as a Stellar executive, which puts her in a good position to bridge between us and the rest of the military-industrial complex.”

And makes for a good way to line your pockets, Dick thought. “And…External Affairs?” He asked.

“It's a grab bag as well,” Schneider said with a shrug. “The JAG office, public relations, cyber and Intel ops. Ideally JAG would be its own thing, but we've had a lot of hemorrhaging there. Turns out it's unpopular to ‘break’ a peace treaty among the lawyers. Either way, I've got Lieutenant General Choe Young-soo running it for now. He came up as an intelligence analyst, one of the few who had raised alarms of the Magnetic Assembly’s potential threat back in 2318.”

That is a spook's wet dream and such a bad idea, Richardson thought. His thoughts must have been obvious on his face and got a snort from Schneider.

“I know, I know,” the General said. “I got a brevetted civvie in the actual legal position, but that's more to keep me appraised than anything else. Mostly, I'll be depending on you and Rocha to counterbalance him.”

We're already at that point, huh? Military triumvirate playing off each other while trying to fight an interstellar war? Dick thought, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. “Alright. What're the orders for us to do, generally speaking?” He asked.

“Invade the Hawking System and bring the terrorists of the Magnetic Assembly to heel,” the General said, as if directing an assault on a star system at least a month's transit away was easy. “Apparently the ‘Aliyums’ have come back in force, so they'll have multiple threats to worry about.”

“They'll have had the last 5 years to dig in and we had a hard time supporting the last battle in Atlantica,” Richardson said. “What's the plan on getting enough ships and support equipment to Atlantica to repair the SLE and stage the invasion fleet?”

“Hopefully we can restart some production in Atlantica itself, at least for spare parts and other non-sensitive items,” Schneider said with a shrug. “If not, then we'll just have to increase the throughput from here.”

Meaning that my worst fear is confirmed, Dick thought. The fucking politicians want to try and take the last non-AU controlled SLE in the solar system. And for some reason, think the other three nations with ties to Earth will take it lying down. Which shows how little they know. “And what exactly are we being given to pull off the…increase in throughput?”

“Carte blanche, the Lovell administration got elected by being very pro-war,” Schneider said, pushing a datapad across the desk. “The first Justice class ships are coming off the line and we can start freeing up Statesmen from picket duty. Excalibur missiles are being produced at scale, Harlequins are dropped until they can be made small enough to fit in regular VLS cells.”

Probably for the best, Dick thought, looking through the reports. “I'd like to do as many refits as possible before we try anything we can't undo diplomatically,” he said.

“Understandable, just don't put it off for too long,” the General replied. “The administration wants to see results.”

Don't put off the first Interstellar War for too long, Dick, we have a civil war to get back to, Richardson thought as he nodded. “I think that addresses any concerns that I had, sir,” he said.

 

[Acewing13]

“So,” the Asian man asked, once everyone sat down. “How was meeting Schneider?”

“It was informative, Lieutenant General Choe,” Richardson said, not sure how to react to the other man's casualness.

“Please, just Choe. We're all Generals after all,” Choe said with a chuckle. “Hell, the only reason you're not a three star is that the other two stars would revolt.”

“Try managing the majority of them,” Lieutenant General Cecília Rocha said, her manicured hair and nails sitting just inside the regulation. “It's like herding cats.”

“No kidding,” Dick said, his guard still up.

“To business then,” Rocha said with a shrug. “I like your idea of an advanced tactics class and I trust that your choice of teacher was good.”

“Lt. Colonel Serizawa is as of now the most experienced officers in facing and cooperating with foreign militaries in ISOC,” Richardson said. “He'll run them through their paces.”

“Let me know if you have other ideas for Academy instruction,” she said with a nod. “Do you want to go over some new toys that R&D and my old coworkers are working up? Nothing's quite ready for prime time, unfortunately.”

“We can go over that later,” Dick said, turning to Choe. “Personally, I'd like to know where we're at on the foreign policy front.”

“A couple of levels into tit for tat sanctions,” Choe said, sliding a datapad over to Dick. “They sanctioned political leaders, we blocked their access to the three Sol SLEs we control, they broadened sanctions to all government employees and jacked up tariffs. So I hope you didn't have any international investments.”

“Nothing besides index funds in the retirement account,” Richardson said, frowning as scrolled down the list of tariffed goods. “As suspected, Silburn's wofleonium supply has been priced out. Any thoughts on a replacement supply?”

“I'm working with the State Department to try and get a deal with the Imperial Theradectans,” Choe said. “I can hand that off to you if you want. Also, we might think about copying them and start cultivating heartstones.”

“Give people powers that we don't understand to harvest their blood?” Dick asked, as he looked at the lost production from higher wofleonium/catonite prices.

“We might have to,” Choe said with a shrug. “I don't like handing the civilian population a metaphorical stick of dynamite, but there are ways to mitigate the risk.”

“Like what?” Richardson asked, frowning as he looked at his senior colleague.

“Only expose populations that we have oversight over already,” Rocha said, waving away Dick's turn and stare. “You know, we're finding ‘naturally occuring’ heartstones in soldiers and astroneers who have used the SLE system. Bump them up a grade or two and call them mages or whatever. Get use out of their abilities while taking wofleonium from their blood occasionally. Then work with private companies already tied into the military-industrial complex to do the same.”

“Right, cause corporations are known for their high levels of security and not treating their current augmented employees like trash,” Richardson said, eyes narrowed.

“General,” Choe said, bringing Dick's attention back to him. “I get the moral implications. Debtor contractors don't get a fair shake at life. But you can read the production projections as well as I can. Do you have any other ideas on how to scale wofleonium supply to meet the needs of the fleet?”

Apologize to the CW, do reparations and reenter negotiations, Dick thought, but grimaced at the unlikelyhood of that possibility.

“What will you be doing in the short term?” Rocha asked.

“Think I'm gonna requisition a Justice-class and do some visits to various bases,” Dick said. “Once I get a staff set up here. SLE comms will get meetings taken care of, unless either of you want to do any face to face.”

“I'll give you the files of the ongoing operations,” Choe said with a nod.

“And feel free to drop by if you have any questions about the new weapon projects,” Rocha said with a smile. “I think you'll be interested in DANDELION, based on your reports on the Battle of Ur.”

“Sure,” the Major General said, nodding to both of his colleagues as he stood. ‘If you don’t mind, I'll get on that staff recruitment.”

“Of course,” Choe said, returning the nod.

Rocha waved Richardson off, her smile set until the door closed. She turned to Choe, smile gone as she said, “I see you didn't read him into CADMUS. Is that wise?”

“His poker face sucks, I want him to be genuinely surprised if we get blowback,” the other General said with a shrug. “Interpol's sniffing around the main site and they've been annoyingly effective in ratting out our pattsies.”

“Someone will have to teach him then,” Rocha said, looking at the door with a predatory smile.

“Don't chew him up that much,” Choe said, shaking his head. “We do actually need a competent fleet manager.”

“One that knows where his bread is buttered,” she replied.

“Whatever,” he said, getting up himself and heading out. “Just know that you're not getting anything more to add to your bureaucratic empire.”

“We'll see who has more dirt on Schneider,” Rocha said with a chuckle to the empty room.