Chapter 512 (1/2)
”I had thought myself a master of war, but fighting the lemurs of Terra I learned I was but a novice in a fancy uniform. Beside the lemurs and those they had trained, I learned the harsh truths of war. Among the Atrekna War's killing fields I learned the cost and horror of war.
And grew to value peace.” - Former Grand Most High Sma'akamo'o, from I Have Ridden the Hasslehoff
The room was every enlistedbeing's worst nightmare.
The stage that the podium was centered on was dimly lit, with several flatscreen 2.5D monitors behind it and holotanks on either side. The seats were arranged in half-circles around the stage, raising up to ensure that every seated being could see clearly and designed for the various limb and body configurations of the Terran Confederate Armed Forces. It was quiet, somber, with only some murmuring heard over the sound of the envirosystems.
Every seat was filled with a being in dress uniform, awash in gold braid, medals, awards, ornaments, and just plain rank. The lowest ranking was a Fourth Most High of the Defiant Herd and a Rear of Admiral (Lower Decks) of the Bronze. The highest ranking was a Great Grand Most High and a Fleet Admiral of the Iron.
There were no attaches, no assistants, no batmen, just row after row of staff grade officers, each with a datapad and stylus, quietly waiting.
The door opened and a Treana'ad in a robotic medical harness moved slowly into the room. The two robotic legs on the right side were attached to regrowth casts, the right gripping arm and bladearm were still in regrowth casts held tight to the body. The big male slowly tapped up to the stage, moved behind the podium, and withdrew a stack of old style white index cards and a digital clicker. He slowly withdrew a pack of cigarettes, unwound the string on the cellophane, and pulled free a cigarette. As everyone watched he turned it around, placed it back into the pack, then withdrew a second. He lit it with an old style flint and steel lighter that used fluid drawn into a wick, then put everything away as he puffed on his cigarette.
He tapped the microphone and the room went silent.
”Greetings, gentlebeings,” he said. He nodded. ”I am General NoDra'ak, Commander of 7th Army, in direct command of V Corps until we can regroup,” he paused for a moment. ”I have commanded over twenty-two theater campaigns, including the successful defense of Telkan 1 and Telkan 2 during the Second Telkan War,” he tapped the clicker, bringing up ground maps of the two planets. They were covered with symbols and lines over the terrain.
”This map undoubtedly makes little sense to you,” NoDra'ak said. He tapped his ashes as he blew smoke rings from his two left legs. He leaned forward slightly. ”And that, gentlebeings, is a hole in our doctrine that recent events have made glaringly apparent.”
He clicked his mandibles and looked over the gathered officers. ”Some of you may blame the Admiral for improper deployment of forces during the latest planetary assault. While it is true he made mistakes that any being trained in ground deployment would have avoided, he was not trained.”
”Neither are any of you,” NoDra'ak said. ”As ground commanders are being trained to assist with orbital theater command, you are being trained in ground deployment and command. The glaring hole in our doctrine has been exposed, and the Confederate Armed Services has learned the hard way not to cover it up with a carpet so we fall back into the hole at a later date.”
He tapped the control and a picture came up of an orbital view, with ship designation and fleet icons burning quietly. ”You are used to this. Clean, calm, orderly. That is naval combat, keeping your cool and planning three steps beyond the current actions, deceiving the enemy into seeing what you want him to see, and using geometry and firepower to carry the day.”
”This is ground combat,” He clicked again, showing ground fighting. It was a complete confusing chaotic scene of warborgs, Tukna'rn infantry with heavy weapons, Telkan Marines, tanks, strikers, and danger close artillery.
”This battlefield is under control,” NoDra'ak said. ”It may not appear that way at this moment, but when this training is finished, every one of you will be able to recognize exactly what is happening in this video as well as identify every icon in that image,” he pointed at the ground deployment map.
He clicked the control and a scene came up of nurses and doctors working in tents while injured troops were carried in on stretchers, some still conscious.
”Unlike naval commands, you will take casualties that will scream and bleed. It will be up close, person, bloody, and gory,” NoDra'ak said. ”And thanks to the magic of modern communications systems.”
He clicked the clicker again and sound filled the auditorium.
Heavy weapon fire, combat rifles, the crumping noise of artillery and mortar shell impacts. The whistling shriek of a Tasty-Freeze missile being fired point blank. There was yelling and screaming. One of the screens filled with a scene of chaos, Terran troops fighting hand to hand with Dwellerspawn that were overruning the lines. The officer in the upper right was listed as COL ULDRE - 4th INF REG, he was sweating and had a pressure cut on his forehead.
”We're surrounded! They're coming in all around us! Drop zone is overrun! We need danger close, now, goddamn it, right fucking now! They're in the...” the voice suddenly went liquid and bubbly, gurgling. His image had blood rush out of his mouth, blood splashed up from the collar, coating the screen. He beat his face against the screen.
NoDra'ak let the death play the entire time, even as another voice cut in.
”Orbital, do you read? Do you read? They're phasing in right on top of us! HOLD WHAT YOU GOT! THIS IS IT!” another voice, ID'd as Major Kilrakikrit. ”ON 'EM ON 'EM ON...” there was a gagging sound.
”BACK TO BACK!” a voice ID'd as Captain Rentiven yelled. ”FORM UP! MORE INCOMING! MORE IN...”
The voice just cut off.
The Colonel was still dying.
”ORBITAL! WE NEED A TEMPORAL RESONANCE STRIKE ON OUR POSITION! ON OUR!” The rank was a First Lieutenant, and the voice cut off.
”Fourth Regiment, this is orbital fire command. Can you confirm request for temporal resonance strike on your position? Do you read?” The image of the fire control officer was that of a calm human female in an immaculate uniform.
”NOW, GODDAMN IT, NOW!” the ID header was a Master Sergeant Grawnklawk. ”IT'S A SPAWN POINT! THEY'LL OVERRUN THE FUCKING CITY! HAMMER STRIKE US!”
”Authorization for fire has been approved. Ten seconds,” the fire control officer said.
A countdown appeared on the images.
It moved glacially slow to the watching officers.
The class watched as officer and enlisted both were wiped away. They saw valiant efforts, heroism, self-sacrifice. Troops fighting and dying to hold the position they couldn't fight their way out of.
The image ended in a white flare.
”You will be trained to think and adapt as rapidly as that situation changed. While in space combat you often have days or hours to make decisions, ten seconds was a lifetime for the men, women, both and neither of Fourth Light Powered Armor Infantry Regiment during that battle,” Smokey No said. He lit another cigarette. ”Ultimately, we won, and Fourth Infantry negated the spawn point and held the enemy in place.”
”If you do not feel capable of handling such decisions, the door is right there. Truthfully, you will never feel full capable, you will always look back and think of things that you could have done differently,” NoDra'ak said. He exhaled smoke. ”If I had deployed them three miles in any direction, they would not have taken 31% casualties before the enemy's insertion point could be nullified.”
He tapped the map with a laser pointer. ”But that was information I did not have until later. Recon had stated the area was clear, with excellent magnetic flux profiles, and away from civilian infrastructure and habitation.”
”But before you think it is too different, naval combat and ground combat are still combat, and you would not hold the rank you do if you were unable to command in combat,” NoDra'ak said. ”I will teach you to apply your skills to ground deployment and ground theater command.”
He tapped the podium with his bladearm.
”We will not make these mistakes again, gentlebeings. We cannot afford it no matter how much the enemy would prefer it,” he said.
He clicked the control and icons replaced the frozen video. ”We will start with standard ground side unit designation icons.”