Straker's Breakers, Page 2

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Straker out.” He slapped Loco’s shoulder. “Let’s go get a hot meal. They’ll be shutting down the mess hall after lunch, and I get a feeling it’ll be a long day.”

  * * *

  At noon, Straker reached the door of the Big Room—the Breakers’ gymnasium-sized ops-intel fusion center. Peering inside, he saw a busy crowd. Techs and watchstanders vied for space with commanders and a host of staff officers and senior noncoms, waiting with controlled tension. No matter how hard Straker tried to keep the Breakers lean, during peacetime there was always headquarters creep.

  That would change now. Clerks would become gunners, drivers and loaders. Aides and execs would put on battlesuits and mechsuits. Mess sergeants and medics would become quartermasters and rear guards until supplies were needed or casualties flowed into the medical modules. The reservists of Second and Third Brigades would be closing up their shops and factories, donning their uniforms and strapping on their personal weapons and gear.

  Straker wondered how many Breakers he’d have left after his announcement. If he got lucky, he’d only lose some of the combat service personnel, maybe some support, and no front-line troops.

  Heiser, the division sergeant major, cleared his throat from behind Straker. That prompt was enough to jolt Straker out of his reverie. He squared his shoulders and stepped into the room.

  “Tench-hun!” Heiser roared, and the Big Room quieted and stilled. Watchstanders continued their duties, monitoring and murmuring into their comlinks, but the rest snapped to attention.

  “At ease,” Straker called as he marched to the podium at one end. He already had his comlink patched into the PA and the division’s all-hands channel, so everyone in the room or on a comlink could hear. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you know the basic situation, but I’ll review it for you. A Republic military task force is on its way here. They haven’t communicated, which they easily could’ve done on a secure channel. General Paloco, Admiral Engels, Captain Indy and I all agree: we have to assume the worst.”

  “What is the worst, Liberator?” Heiser asked over his own comlink, following the script they’d hurriedly prepared. The senior noncom had to speak for the troops, looking out for their welfare, so he must appear to be asking the hard questions of the commander. Better a prepared question from a loyal man than an unexpected one asked by someone else in sudden anger and fear.

  “The worst is that the government is coming to arrest us. To break us up, intern us maybe.”

  A stir of muttering swept the room.

  “At ease!” Heiser bellowed. “Quiet!” Then he continued the script. “Are you sure that’s the worst that could happen?”

  Straker made a show of thinking this over. “I suppose it could be worse than that. You all know the rumors—more than rumors, since I’ve heard from some of our remaining friends in the Fleet—that the Parliamentary Intelligence Agency is making Hok again, using prisoners... under Victory Party direction.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?” Loco chimed in on cue. “Might as well put the criminals to use!”

  Straker held up a hand. “I might agree with you, as an alternative to capital punishment. But what about petty crime? Kids get busted for shoplifting. You want them turned into Hok? What about citizens who demonstrate against corruption and get arrested? What about those who oppose Steel and his ambition? You think he’ll show mercy? Or will he turn them into Hok?”

  Growls and angry mutterings rippled through the room.

  Straker waited until they quieted to continue. “If Steel makes Hok out of anyone who causes him trouble, you think he won’t arrest us and inject us with the parasite? You know what the tame newsnets have been saying lately—how we Breakers are a danger to the peace and prosperity of the Republic, when we’ve never done anything out of line.”

  This time he let the murmuring swell into loud conversations. Men and women gestured broadly at each other as their voices rose, and two young sergeants scuffled until a trio of senior noncoms broke it up.

  At what he judged was the right moment, Straker spoke again. “That’s the worst-case scenario, ladies and gentlemen. They might declare us all criminals and turn us into Hok. On the other hand, this might simply be some comms-out priority mission. This task force might be escorting us on some operation against a new, unknown threat.”

  “But sir!” Colonel Winter, the commander of the Breakers’ elite First Battalion mechsuiters, asked the first unscripted question. “If that were true, they’d have at least given us an encrypted alert order. Complete silence is concerning, to say the least. There’s no reason for it.”

  Bless you for adding that in, Straker thought. “Good point, Martin. If everything’s on the level, they’d send flash traffic—even if nothing but ‘stand by for further orders.’ But we have to go with the worst case, and the worst case is,” he paused for effect, “they’ll hold our families hostage, disband us, and make as many of us they like into Hok. Or, they might even decide to bombard us from orbit. Kill us all. If so, we’ll have to run. Or fight.”

  “General,” Commander Sinden, the brigade intelligence officer, said with a raised hand, “what if none of that’s true? What if it’s legitimate? Perhaps some aliens have broken all our encryption, and the task force is afraid of being overheard? What if they have widespread comms malfunction? Viruses in their computer systems? What if their SAIs became sentient and mutinied? We simply don’t know. We need more data.”

  The murmuring rose again, until Straker held up a calming hand. “Thank you, Commander, for doing your duty and providing an alternate view. If any of that turns out to be true, then we’ll have a good laugh about all the work we did for nothing. But if the worst comes, we need to be prepared. And for that, we need to be united.”

  There were shouts then from the crowd. “We are united!” and “Tell us what to do, sir!” These flew thick and fast, until Straker again spoke.

  “If the worst comes, what we’re doing will look like mutiny. Now, for me, I don’t call it mutiny to refuse unlawful orders, orders that will destroy my family—and you, Breakers, are my family. This isn’t a democracy, but this particular decision is one we all have to make for ourselves. So right now, this one time, I’m asking you to choose: If you want to submit to the governments’ orders, whatever they may be, proceed to the infirmary compound with your families. By doing so, you’ll show the Republic task force you’re out of the Breakers, and are complying with whatever orders they give you.”

  “And for those who don’t?” Colonel Winter asked.

  “All the noncombatants will evac as per the NEO. Then, I’ll have to decide whether the Breakers evac with them, or fight.”

  Now came the real test. He’d given them the hard choice of leaving the Breakers or participating in a rebellion.

  Giving them a choice of any kind was dangerous for a commander, of course. They might feel emboldened to try to seize the next decision from him, such as the decision of whether to fight or run.

  On one hand, it would be popular to ask them for their opinion—at least his commanders, his staff, and his senior noncoms—whether to fight or run.

  On the other hand, to do so would set a precedent he couldn’t afford. Pretty soon, they’d be thinking every decision was up for debate—and leadership by committee was the ultimate oxymoron. Unless he wanted the let the Breakers become merely a civilian organization which happened to possess heavy weapons, he had to remain their commander, in fact as well as in name.

  No, it was best to give them the hardest choice up front. Then, everything else got easier.

  “Everyone who wants to leave the Breakers and comply, notify your supervisors and go now. Everyone who’s staying must let those who’d decide to leave alone. Don’t hinder them or harass them. Respect their decision and get on with your work. For all the Breakers remaining, I’ll have new orders for you by 1300 hours. Carry on.”

  Straker left the Big Room with th
eir eyes burning the back of his neck.

  Chapter 2

  Straker on Culloden

  “You’re planning to fight, right, boss?” Loco asked Straker as they walked out of the Big Room toward their offices.

  “Are you really asking, or trying to influence me?”

  “Who me, influence you?” Loco lifted his hands. “Cosmos forbid! I’m only your best friend and second-in-command.”

  “Carla might challenge you for those titles.”

  “Now you’re just arguing to argue.”

  “So what if I am?”

  “You always get bitchy when you’re trying to figure something out.”

  Straker sighed. “I guess so. I’m working through my decision.” As he turned into his outer office, his personal staff greeted him with nods and waves. They’d long ago been told to forgo ceremony and do their work during his comings and goings. Heiser followed the two men into Straker’s office and closed the door behind them.

  Straker settled into his desk chair. “Sit down, gents. Get yourself something. Scotch for me.”

  Heiser moved to pour.

  “Me too, Top,” Loco said, throwing himself onto the sofa and lacing his hands behind his head. “Make mine a double. I’m gonna need it.”

  Heiser was just distributing the drinks when Engels slipped into the room. Heiser handed her Loco’s glass and poured Loco another.

  She lifted it, catching Straker’s eye, and then slugged it back like a trooper. “The kids are taken care of. You’re planning to fight, right, Derek?” Only she said the latter in a completely different tone from Loco’s—a disapproving one.

  “Loco wants to stay. You want to run?”

  “I don’t see what staying gets us, other than a bunch of dead families.”

  “Families… That’s what our troops are now.”

  “Most of them.”

  Straker sipped, put his glass down and rubbed his hands together. “Running is the safe bet. We preserve the Breakers, but we remove ourselves from the Republic. If these ships are on the level after all, we’ll have bugged out without permission, but that can be smoothed over.”

  “So you think that’s the right option?”

  “Not sure yet. I’m thinking out loud.”

  “We can keep inquiring from aboard the Independence.” Engels said. “Be truthful. Tell them what it looks like to us, tell them they need to talk, whatever the risks. Which are minimal, if they really are being straight with us. They could use the FTL comlink, or a tightbeam laser. Or even send over a shuttle to hand-deliver a SITREP and our orders. If they won’t do that, well… we disappear into sidespace. Run for the Starfish Nebula, or the frontier planets. We can ask one of the independent worlds for asylum—or settle on an empty one we find.”

  Straker stood to pace slowly around his large wooden desk, head down. “That all makes sense if I believed Steel would simply let us go. But Benota’s been replaced as Minister of War, and Director DeChang knows which way the wind is blowing. He joined the Party, and he won’t stick his neck out for us. Any other friends we had are being sidelined. Look at Zholin. He tried to be a good soldier and they cashiered him on some bullshit pretext. Then he disappeared.”

  “Really?” Engels displayed shock. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Our Ruxin pipeline says he was sent to a PAI prison. I think they’ve made a Hok out of him. Anyone want to bet against me?”

  “Fuck me,” Heiser exclaimed. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Fuck me is right,” Engels echoed with a grimace. “Bad enough losing friends in combat, but to have your mind taken…”

  “That’s why we have to stay and fight,” Straker said.

  “I understand your feelings, Derek,” Engels said. “But what does staying get us except casualties? Even if we fight, winning will be difficult. Steel and these Victory Party people, they’re vicious. They won’t forget. They’ll hunt us down in revenge.”

  “We can’t even depend on them letting us run without a fight,” Straker replied. “They’ll hunt us down anyway.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Follow my logic, and tell me I’m wrong.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Straker continued to pace. “They’ve gutted the Fleet, fearing internal opposition more than alien threats. Granted, they kept the best ships and retired old ones, but they used the reorganization to get rid of the best, most independent fighting commanders, the ones who might have opposed any power grab. They put their political cronies in charge of as many ships as they could, and every commander has a Party ‘Loyalty Officer’ at their elbow to keep an eye on them. Do you think there are any good people left on those ships?”

  The other three in the room shook their heads slowly.

  “To me, it looks like they’re making a move to get rid of the Breakers. If not, we can always stand down. If so, the fleet commanders we’ll be dealing with will be their hardcore Party loyalists—officers and crews that will follow any order, even if it means murdering us. But they don’t have endless supplies of such hardcore people and ships. If we deal them a sharp defeat right here, right now, we could reverse the situation, head for Atlantis, and depose Steel.”

  Engels threw up her hands. “You want to stage another coup five years after the last one? You’re not a dictator, Derek, and you’re not the government’s policeman.”

  “No, I’m the Liberator. The new constitution was supposed to establish that position—an official elected position, after I stepped down—that would safeguard the Republic, preserve the separation of powers, and make sure things didn’t go off the rails. But they took that position out of the constitution, and they seem to be ignoring the parts of the Statement of Rights they don’t like. For example, making more Hok is banned, but they’re doing it. A one-party system is also prohibited—but the Victory party is stealing elections and assassinating opposing candidates. Now they’ve got the majority in Parliament, they’re systematically eliminating all other parties. What am I supposed to do?”

  “I’ll tell you what you’re not supposed to do, Derek Barnes Straker,” Engels said, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re not supposed to keep risking everyone’s life to save a system that doesn’t want to be saved. Every damned day you talk to me about history. Well, the only way humanity’s going to learn from history is to go through the ugly parts. They have to work it out for themselves, not have the white knight Sir Derek Straker constantly playing hero!”

  “Hey, we like playing hero,” Loco said.

  “Shut up!” Straker and Engels said simultaneously, while Heiser tried to make himself small in a corner armchair.

  Loco threw up his hands. “Sor-ry! Just trying to lighten the mood. But hey, um, Derek?”

  “What?”

  “Let’s say we clean these guys’ clocks. I have no idea how, since they outgun Indy by ten to one, and if we stay here on the planet we’ve trapped ourselves, but hey, just for the sake of argument, let’s say we do it. We magically manage to capture all those ships and head for Atlantis. Even with thirteen ships we won’t get past the orbital fortresses, and even if we do, there’s no guarantee the Breakers can overthrow the government. But even if we can, do you think the Victory Party will just give up? Or will they write Atlantis off and organize the other thousand systems against us?”

  Straker smashed his fist into his palm with an audible crack. “We have to try!”

  “No, we don’t,” Engels said. “We’re not responsible for all of humanity. You’re not. But we are responsible for the Breakers—twenty thousand troops and about the same number of family members.”

  Straker saw Loco agreed with her, and he figured Heiser did too, though he was keeping quiet.

  “Now look, boss,” Loco said, “I don’t want these bastards to say they ran us off without a fight, but we’re gonna pay a hard price if we stay. It would be double-stupid to go trying to liberate the whole Republic one more time. Last time, the planets were like
dominoes ready to fall. Not anymore. You gotta give up on being the Galactic Liberator all the time. Maybe just stick to keeping us Breakers liberated?”

  Straker took a deep breath, and then another. The wild dream that had sprung full-blown into his head dispersed like a puff of smoke in a high wind. As much as he hated to admit it, they were right. He couldn’t gamble the lives of all his troops—the breadwinners of the dependent families even now being evacuated—on such a long shot.

  “Okay... Okay, I started to let my imagination run away with me,” Straker said. “But like you said, Loco, I can’t stand to run away without bloodying their noses. Just like with the Opters and the Crystals, we have to pound them hard, make them not want to mess with us again.”

  “Didn’t work with the aliens, though, did it?” Engels said. “They just came after us harder. The best thing we can do is pull chocks and vanish. Lull them into a false sense of security, and in five or ten years, after we’ve built up forces, we can come back and kick their legs out from under them.”

  “No,” Straker said. “We can’t just cut and run. That would be cowardly and shirking our responsibility as Republic citizens. Steel is on top, but he’s still shaky. He hasn’t really consolidated power. Better to expose his weakness right now, while the opposition parties still have some strength. A brutal, embarrassing military defeat might do that.”

  “But how?” Engels said. “I can’t see how we can possibly win.”

  Straker made a face. Carla wouldn’t like this next part. “There’s… well… an extra, secret annex to the combat operations plan. Annex Zulu.”

  Engels put down her glass and stepped in front of Straker as he paced. “A secret annex? To the plan? That I don’t know about?”

  “Yeah.”

  Engels’s face reddened ominously. “What the hell is this Annex Zulu?”

  “It’s my code name for how to deal with the worst, worst-case scenario. It takes advantage of some elements almost nobody knows about.”