BattleMaster (The BattleMaster Corps Book 1) Page 3

  “VR sims?”

  “They count.”

  “Debatable.”

  “Yes.” She crossed her arms. “And we’re not here to debate, general.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll drop it...for now.” He moved opposite her at the table. “What did you want to see me about?”

  “This.”

  Text from an intercepted Euro diplomatic communication to the Chinese appeared before him. It clearly showed an ongoing negotiation between the two powers. That wasn’t unusual. What was of concern was the topic, an alliance against the Americans on New Calcutta. They were haggling over how to divide the planet after final victory.

  The blood drained from his face. “Is the alliance finalized?”

  “No, thank God.” She leaned in, putting her hands on the station’s edge. “I don’t have to tell you what will happen if we have to fight against a unified front. From what we can tell, the talks are in the earliest stages. They don’t trust each other and for good reason. Any real agreement will take several months, if not years.”

  “But they will likely reach agreement eventually. The clock is ticking.”

  “Yes, it is. We need more time. We have to throw a wrench into their talks. Complicate the negotiations to drag them out until we can develop a longer-term solution.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Is Colonial Gov thinking of expanding the war into space? Enacting a planetary blockade?”

  “No. There is no desire to escalate the conflict beyond the surface. That would likely drive our enemies together faster.”

  “Makes sense. What’s your plan?”

  The display shifted to show the current strategic situation. The three opposing forces were heavily concentrated on the planet’s egg-shaped main continent, which accounted for twenty percent of the total landmass. Like Earth, oceans dominated the surface.

  While each force technically controlled vast stretches of territory, troop concentrations were low in most of those areas. The original colony ships had only held ten thousand people each. No power had the population or industrial base to field the massive armies required to firmly hold such an area.

  Samantha used her index finger to divide the continent into three roughly equal sections. The sight sickened Kyle. After all the years of war, all the sacrifices of pain and death, not much had changed.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Right now, the Euros and Chinese are negotiating as equals. We need to upset that balance of power, to make one of them believe their position is superior and therefore they’re due a bigger piece of the pie.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Agreed, but how? The old problem still exists. Attack one too hard and you expose yourself to the other.”

  “There is indeed great risk, but not as much as doing nothing. Particularly when you calculate the politics back home. I’ve also devised a plan to increase our chances of success.” She stood up and raised a balled hand. “We will consolidate most of our BattleMasters into a single fist. Supported by a small contingent of infantry, they will drive deep into Euro territory, building upon our recent gains there.”

  “Okay, I see what you’re doing.” He drew his finger across the border with Chinese’s forces. “But even if we deploy every other unit along here, they will not be able to hold without more firepower.”

  “You’re right, but I don’t plan for them to hold.”

  “Attack?” He exhaled. “That’s suicide.”

  She shook her head, the cable swinging behind her. “We’ll conduct a fighting withdrawal once they attack. Staying just outside their reach, we’ll conserve our forces by trading land for time. If all goes as I envision, we’ll all move clockwise but the Euro forces will be crushed.”

  “And if we don’t finish them off?” He rubbed his chin. ”The Chinese will demand a greater share of the planet as payment for their alliance. That’s something the Euros are not likely to agree to. They’d prefer to build up their army anew, but that will take time.”

  “You got it.”

  He gripped the edge of her command station. “So, what do you want me to do? Attack or fighting retreat?”

  “This attack will be the most significant military operation in our colony’s history.” She drove a fist into her palm. “It must be brutal, swift, and overwhelming while preserving as much of our force as possible. Everything is riding on it. There is only one person I trust to carry it out.”

  “Thank you, Samantha.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’ve only handed you enough rope to hang yourself. Both of us, in fact. The orders have been transmitted. Nearly every offensive weapon is at your disposal. I expect an initial draft of your attack plan in a week. We launch no later than thirty-five days from now. We’ll use that time to make upgrades and prepare the infantry.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Excellent. Dismissed.” She closed her eyes.

  He lost her to the digital world again.

  At the door he paused and looked back. “You know, this meeting was pretty inefficient. You could’ve communicated the mission to me in writing or over a secure video link.”

  Her eyelids opened. “Yes, I could’ve.” Then they shut again.

  He smiled to himself. My girl is still in there somewhere.

  ***

  Doctor Xavier Bach leaned closer to his computer screen as though doing so would change the results of his latest test. It didn’t. The data displayed showed another failure of his BattleSwarm system.

  Frustration boiled over. He slammed a fist onto his desk and muttered an obscenity to himself. The bang attracted the attention of others in the lab.

  He grinned uncomfortably and ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. “Sorry.”

  They returned their attention to their work. He preferred they ignore him, or at least that’s what he told himself. Taking in a deep breath, he steadied his nerve and went to work reconfiguring the test. He wouldn’t fail this time. If he did, he’d try again and again. This design would eventually work. It had to.

  Xavier had once been a child prodigy, a boy genius who’d finished his primary education, the equivalent of a bachelor’s degree in previous centuries, by his twelfth birthday. Doctorates in physics and computer science followed. He was supposed to change what it meant to be human, but a series of failures had added him to the heap of forgotten scientists.

  So many brilliant ideas. So many spectacular disappointments. So much humiliation. He glanced over his shoulder at his colleagues. None paid him any attention. They’re probably laughing to themselves right now. Old Bach is at it again, giving military R&D a stellar name. He scowled. I’ll show them this time. My system will work and it will win us the war. Then my genius will finally be appreciated and I’ll finally get the respect I deserve.

  The click-clack of high heels on the tiled floor grew louder behind him. Xavier pretended not to notice the approach of his boss, Director Kendra Dean, but his stomach sank nonetheless.

  The footfalls stopped two feet from him. “Doctor, I’d like to speak to you in my office.”

  “Can it wait?” Xavier flared an arm out to his side. “I’m in the middle of something important.”

  “Now, doctor.”

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  Inside her office, Kendra gestured toward a chair as she closed the door. “Have a seat.”

  “I’ll stand, thank you.”

  She mumbled something under her breath. He couldn’t make it out but had an idea it wasn’t a compliment.

  She gripped the back of her chair and stared him straight in the eye. “I’m shutting your project down.”

  “What?” Xavier’s head jerked back as if she’d given him a left jab. I’m so close. They can’t shut me down now. My work is too important to the future of the colony. His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  She put her hands on her wide hips. “I’ve read your latest report. Your simulation failed. Again. I can’t justify your project anymore. It was a nightmare getting it approved in the first
place. No mind can control that many drones at once, let alone with a high enough degree of efficiency to warrant its field deployment.”

  He felt light-headed. “Please, Kendra, you can’t do this to me. I know I can do it. I just need a little more time. My machine-mind interface will work; I simply need to find the right kind of brain physiology to pair it with.”

  She sighed and relaxed her arms. “I’m sorry, Xavier. I’ve protected you as long as I can, but you have to give me something to work with. I have people I need to answer to and they demand results for the resources committed to a project.”

  He collapsed into a chair. “My work. My career. What now?”

  Kendra came around her desk and sat next to him, putting a hand on his knee. “It wasn’t easy, but I found a project willing to take you on.” Her lips twisted. “You don’t have a great reputation for being a team player.”

  You small-minded morons are too afraid of failure to dream big. Don’t you know greatness requires risk? Bold ideas? His muscles tensed and his face flushed. Damaging words were on the tip of his tongue. No, don’t. You can come back if you play the game for now.

  He bit his lip and swallowed his rage. Anger would only burn his last bridge. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, Kendra.” His hand covered hers. “You’ve been a better ex-wife than I ever was a husband.”

  That brought a wry grin to her face. “Well, being your boss is easier than being your wife. Not by much.”

  “What am I going to be working on?”

  Rising, she grabbed a tablet off her desk and handed it to him. “There’s a BattleMaster system upgrade the Army wants installed ASAP. They’re planning something and want the Corps in top shape.”

  He sprung to his feet. “Technical work? I’ll be doing software updates?”

  “’Thank you, Kendra’ would’ve been the right response.” She jabbed a finger at him. “No one wants to work with you. It was either this or the street. The assignment is with the field branch of R&D. Once the upgrades are done, you might be able to get on another development project. Take it or leave it.”

  Tech work. Has it really come down to that? I’ve been demoted to a common grease monkey. I can’t accept that. He glanced at the door. But if I leave now, I’m done forever. If I stay and play nice, maybe I’ll get another chance to make BattleSwarm a reality. Yes, Xavier. Put your pride aside and think long-term.

  Xavier stood straight. “When do I leave for New Calcutta?”

  She paused, studying his expression. “In the morning. I’ll send you your orders and transit authorization soon. You’ll be on planet in twenty-eight days.”

  “I’d better get going.” He went for the door but stopped and turned. “Thank you, Kendra. I won’t let you down this time.”

  She tilted her head and squinted. “You’re welcome.”

  He flashed her a bright smile and left.

  Xavier stuffed his few personal effects into a box. None of his colleagues bothered to say good-bye. He caught them smirking at him, enjoying his most recent setback. Just you wait. I’ll bite my tongue for now and do the dirty work. It might prove valuable, working with actual people for a change. Yes, that’s the key. I’ve been focusing too much on simulations. I bet I find the brain I’m looking for. It’ll be a type of mind I never considered before. BattleSwarm will work and none of you will be laughing at me then.

  He exited the building with zip in his step. He was determined to change the face of war and make his mark on the universe.

  Chapter Four

  Private Stanner collapsed onto his bunk, sweat soaking his PT shorts and t-shirt. His calves ached and his shoulders throbbed where the pack’s straps had dug in. The lieutenant had been running them hard for a week. Each day they ran further and with an increasingly heavy load on their backs.

  Why are they running us into the ground? I should’ve reapplied to the officer cadet program. My written test score sucked, but I aced the verbal almost well enough to squeak in. That would’ve taken another six months, though, and I needed to get out of my parent’s house. Dad was driving me crazy with his bullshit. Why didn’t I do good enough for graduate school? Why wasn’t I ever good enough ...?

  “Anti-war protestors surrounded the Capitol today,” a reporter said via a tablet in the next bunk over. “It is the latest in an increasing number of public displays illustrating the growing dissatisfaction with the war effort we’ve seen in recent polling data. Organizers said that with no end in...”

  “Shut that crap off.” Olsen staggered in with a blank stare. The strain had been harder for him. “Too tired to listen to the news.” He gritted his teeth to heave his pack onto his top bunk. He put his forehead against the bed rail for a minute to gather strength. Droplets of sweat fell to the floor.

  Stanner sucked in a deep breath and swung his feet around, forcing himself to stand. He took hold of Olsen’s shoulder. “C’mon, you need a drink. I could use one too.”

  Nodding, Olsen leaned on Stanner for support. They walked toward a beverage dispenser in the back of the barracks. Most of the platoon was littered around it, sipping their drinks from white cups.

  Stanner reached for the outlet. “Two PT recovery cocktails for Privates Stanner and Rosewood.”

  The machine paused to confirm their IDs. These were special drinks only available in limited amounts after hard workouts. Mercifully, the cups fell and were filled with the magic elixir. A sip brought instant relief that washed over Stanner’s abused joints.

  The drink was a mixture of painkillers, anti-inflammatories, and mild steroids designed to decrease the recovery time between intense workouts.

  Sergeant Veech strolled through the group like he’d finished a casual jog. His wet shirt fully displayed his bulging muscles. “Water,” he commanded to the dispenser. Kicking back the drink in one gulp, Veech crumbled the cup and tossed it into a corner. “Get showered and get a hot meal in you. Tomorrow we’re going again. More distance, more weight.”

  A collective groan filled the room.

  “Tissues are in the latrine, ladies.” Veech scanned the idle platoon. “Get a move on. I want asses in bunks by twenty-one hundred hours.”

  Stanner swallowed the last of the magical drink that had given him the will to shuffle his feet toward the showers. They were zombies on the march.

  The shower put new life in Stanner. Or maybe the painkillers and steroids had taken full effect. Whatever the case, he walked to the mess hall, surrounded by his platoon, with a spring in his step.

  Ed Eggie, a freckle-faced corporal, turned to him. “Why do you think they’re running us like dogs every day?”

  A voice in back chimed in. “I heard they’re doing the same to the entire regiment.”

  Stanner shrugged. “They must be preparing us for something. No way this is some kind of new PT program.”

  Olsen shook his head. “It doesn’t feel right. Yesterday I walked by a couple of officers and they were talking about the division digging in for a defense in depth.”

  “We’re not digging in.” Ed put his hands on his lower back and bent backwards. “I can’t take running like a gazelle much longer.”

  Gazelle? Stanner’s mind snatched onto the word and zipped at the speed of thought from topic to topic, following a train of logic only he understood. Wild animal native to Africa. Africa, Zulus, running warriors. Fought the British. Battle of Isandlwana and Roarke’s Drift. The Zulus charged with their fast attack horn formation. Fast attack, sweeping armor on flanks. Patton used infantry to hold ‘em while massed armor formations attacked weak points.

  Cocking his head, Stanner replied a half second after Ed’s comment. “We’re preparing for a major attack. We’re conditioning to run alongside the drones.”

  Six pairs of eyes stared at him.

  Ed turned a corner to enter the mess hall. “What? How’d you come to that conclusion?”

  Stanner shrugged. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else run us into the ground?
We’re getting ready to run a lot. And why else would we be running that much?”

  “I don’t know.” Olsen grabbed a tray while shaking his head. “The rest of the division is digging in. Why would we be the only ones attacking?”

  Stanner spoke as he worked his way down the line, piling food high onto his tray. “I can’t imagine we are. Any serious attack means drones while a defense in depth can be conducted without them, or at least not as many. Basic doctrine dictates that drones be supported by infantry. That infantry would have to move fast and often to maximize the effectiveness of the attack. Meaning they’d have to be in great shape.”

  Olsen’s grip on his tray tightened. “You really think that’s it. We’re — we’re getting ready to attack?”

  The group sat down at a long table.

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Stanner looked at his friends. Worry scared their expressions. Crap, I freaked them out. He threw his hands in the air. “But what the hell do I know? The sergeant could be running us like dogs just to be an ass.”

  Grins appeared all around him.

  Ed nodded. “Yeah, I bet that’s it. Veech gets off by busting our balls.”

  Laughter rose up from the table before the others began shoveling food in their mouths.

  Stanner chewed on a bite. I wonder how long we have to pretend I’m not right?

  ***

  Lieutenant Stephanie Butler slammed her eyes shut, focusing on the feeds flowing into her mind’s eye. The information load was intense. Altitude, fuel levels, payload, laser charge, and enemy positions were just where it began.

  Captain Reba Chandler’s voice popped into her head. “I need air support! My bots are taking damage from the south ridge. Hit it now!”

  Stephanie didn’t reply for fear that minor effort would send her over the edge. A BattleMaster had to be careful not to overload herself. If she did, a surge protector in her head would flip, cutting the link. That would leave her drones on AI guidance, which made them easy targets.

  Antiaircraft fire from the target ridge leaped up at her ten triangle-shaped aerial drones flying in electronically-tethered pairs. This tethering gave her only five interfaces to manage. Red laser streaks streaked through her formation. Fifty-caliber rounds exploded, dotting the air with puffs of smoke. She gritted her teeth and commanded her flock to take evasive action. The five pairs put distance between each other, zigging, zagging, and barrel rolling closer to the objective.