Carnifex

28/2/468 AC, Firebase Pedro de Lisaldo, Pashtia

"Sayidi, it's not like they don't know we're coming for them," said Qabaash, in the confines of the conference room tent near the main command post for the Legion's expeditionary force. "And, to a considerable degree of certainty, when. We can choose the exact time and the place and even the manner, but we cannot choose the fact or the season. The Kibla Pass must be cleared; they know this. They will be waiting and they will be prepared."

"'Prepared' is possibly an understatement, boss," added Triste. "Even if what the FS Army has caught moving into the area represents ninety percent of everything that was sent up there by the Ikhwan, and it doesn't, that other theoretical ten percent is going to be a bitch, taken head on."

"What are we facing?" Carrera asked.

"A reinforced brigade," Triste answered. "I can't tell you exactly how reinforced they might be. Assume more than their fair share of heavy mortars, possibly even a few tanks, lots of RGLs . . . fair amount of anti-aircraft, guns and shoulder-fired guided missiles, both. That's all pretty concentrated on the best landing zones, too. Some of the guns are reported to be in caves that cover the LZs and which are a just plain bitch to see until it's too late.

"Assume mines and booby traps and major improvised explosive devices. Assume the sides and underbeds of the road through the pass are wired for sound"—milspeak for wired to explode—"and that most of the LZs will be mined and covered by direct and indirect fire."

Miguel Lanza, head of the air ala, usually kept fairly quiet at these little brainstorming sessions. Today was different.

"Jefe, there are half a dozen LZs within six or eight miles of the summit of the pass in which I could set down Qabaash' entire brigade in no more than three or four lifts. Every one of them is entirely unsuitable; I'd lose nearly every bird I tried to set down."

"Fine. What's not unsuitable?" Carrera asked.

Qabaash raised an eyebrow at Triste, who proceeded to produce a photo and a large scale map and hand them over to Carrera. "This one might work, boss."

Carrera's face looked highly dubious. The photo showed a somewhat narrow ledge—no more than fifty meters in width—hunched against a series of cliffs with serrations in them. On the side away from the cliffs was a sheer drop.

"What's this good for? Maybe five or six birds landing at a time. It would take forever to get Qabaash' brigade on the ground."

"I think more like four birds at a time, jefe," Lanza corrected. "And the cross winds coming around that rock outcropping will be very difficult. But no; it won't take forever. Assume we'll have to underload the helicopters some because of the thin air. Okay, so it takes damned near everything I have to get all of the Salah al Din brigade into the air at once. Call it one hundred and twenty choppers, anyway. At four per lift, or one per lift for the IM-62s, it will take just over an hour to get everyone in and out."

"But I can be moving on the pass on foot as soon as I have two companies landed," interjected Qabaash. "That's less than ten minutes . . . "

"Closer to five," Lanza corrected.

"Better still, closer to five minutes after the first chopper touches down and I am already on my way to the pass."

"And then what, Qabaash?" Carrera asked, frowning. "You've got two companies heading into a meatgrinder with at least a battalion dug in strongly." He looked over the map and photo again. "And you've got two, count 'em, two crappy trails from the landing zone to the objective."

"That's only if they all go towards the real landing zone," Lanza said. "I can buzz and false insert at every other good and even remotely possible LZ in the area. They'll never hear or see enough to know which is the real landing. I might lose a couple but . . . really . . . they don't have to commit to a landing, just to buzz the spot. The artillery can prep . . . "

"Not much artillery," interrupted Harrington, the logistician. "If you're moving all of Qabaash' boys at once there'll be nothing left to airlift guns and shells into range. Only the multiple rocket launchers can range to the summit of the pass from where we can resupply by truck."

"Okay," Lanza conceded. "Have a little faith. With the MRLs, the Finches, aerially dropped guided bombs from the Nabakovs, and gunship support we can still put on a good show of prepping enough landing zones that they won't know where we're coming from. That means Qabaash will face at most . . . "

"A company," Qabaash finished. "And the day two companies of Salah al Din can't handle a company of Ikhwan irregulars will be a cold, happy and batless day in Hell." He sounded very pleased at the prospect of demonstrating this point in the near future.

Carrera held up his hand for silence. Immediately the other's shut up.

"We'll do it. As Qabaash and Lanza say. Terry?"

"Here, boss," piped in Terry Johnson, for the nonce commanding the Tercio de Cazadores. His new rifle project was progressing under his assistant, another Volgan enticed away from the Rodina.

"I want you to start inserting teams all over the area within the next couple of days. In particular, get a platoon—a company if you think it needful and possible—into the area of the LZ . . . mmm, what should we call that LZ?"

"Let's call it 'Landing Zone Agadir,' Patricio," Qabaash supplied. "It was a small but lovely fight back on Old Earth, long ago."

"Agadir, then. Dan?"

"Yes, Pat?"

"Work up the orders for review within two days."

* * *

Compared to most modern command posts, headquarters for the Legion was really rather sedate. True, underlings scurried about. Maps were updated. Occasionally one might hear a voice or two raised in argument. For the most part, though, it was calm and quiet. And so it should have been. There was little reason for frenzy in a force that placed a premium on individual initiative at lower levels and which rarely tried to manage a battle in too exquisite a detail outside of artillery preparations.

(On the other hand, if one really wanted to see frenzy, one could always go down to a cohort command post.)

Instead, the CP for the Legion was a place for the housing and support of the commander and the staff, a place for planning future operations, and a meeting place for those times when face to face orders to groups of men had to be given. Ordinarily, there really wasn't any reason for frenzy.

Instructing his driver to get a meal and some sleep, Carrera entered the main tent, ordering, "At ease," before anyone had a chance to disrupt work by calling, "Attention." Stopping by the operations and intelligence maps, he took in an overview—updated about three hours previously—of the current operation. There were no surprises, he noted, with satisfaction.

He then grabbed a sandwich from a tray thoughtfully left there by the HQ mess platoon, before retiring to his own, attached, tent to catch up on correspondence.

On the top of the pile of printed off sheets was a missive from Parilla.

Patricio:

That you are willing to fund a major expansion of the reserve components helps us. I am awaiting the right time to make the announcement. Fernandez suggests forcing an 'incident' with the Tauran Union troops here so that we can appeal to patriotism rather than simply looking like we're trying to buy votes. I like the idea in principle, but am concerned that forcing a small fight with the TU might turn into a large fight that we are not ready for. Especially are we not ready while you have eighty-five percent of the force—to include a hefty chunk of the training base returned to their parent tercios—over in Pashtia. Moreover, while you are over there, with your base areas surrounded by Tauran troops, you might be vulnerable. So I think I will not follow Fernandez's advice, at least for a while. Have you any ideas on how best to precede the announcement? One thought I had was not to make it at all, but to start major public works of a defensive nature, hiring fifty or sixty thousand of the unemployed, and making those defensive works plainly and obviously oriented against the Taurans. That might get us the patriotic response, coupled with self interest, and is also do something we ought to be doing anyway . . .

"Note to self," Carrera muttered. "Have Sitnikov brief Parilla on plans for fortifications on the Isla Real and along both sides of the Rio Gatun. Also, check on progress in designing the expansion."

He tapped the side of his nose several times, thinking. "Hmmm . . . I hate to lose Kuralski but I think maybe I need to send him back to Volga for a bit."

. . . providing you and Fernandez are right—and, no, I don't disagree—about war with the Tauran Union and possibly the Zhong being inevitable.

It is strange to think of us being on our own against the second- and third-ranked powers of this world. Always before we lived under the shadow, but also the covering umbrella, of the Federated States. We never had to worry about defense against anyone but them; and defense against them, as you helped prove almost twenty years ago, was impossible . . .

"It was impossible then, Raul. Now? Now, if the entire force were home? I think the FSC would probably get sick of the bloodletting before they conquered Balboa again." And what would I do in such a case? That's a no-brainer; my loyalty is to my Legion.

Carrera continued with the letter:

There are moments when I seriously doubt the wisdom of the course we have undertaken, moments when I doubt it is worth it for me to become President. But then I think of the Legion, of what we could do for Balboa if we could spread the wealth around without it automatically gravitating to the pockets of the idle, corrupt and useless rich.

In any case, enough of an old man's idle prattle for now. Your time is valuable and, so the newscasts and the intelligence reports say, well spent. Give my warmest regards to the officers, centurions, warrants and men of the Legion. I miss you all very much and look forward to your speedy and safe return home.

"Fine old man," said Carrera, putting the missive aside and picking up the next, from Fernandez.

Duque:

The only good news I have to report is that our friends above are due to receive a visitor that has to be most unwelcome. Apparently the UEPF, too, has an Inspector General and apparently like any IG, theirs is a pain in the ass.

Yes, this comes from our very special intelligence source. How long this source can last is anyone's guess, however. Sometimes I think that the best use of this asset is not in the detailed intelligence we receive, but in what it tells us about the mindset of the UE and the UEPF.

Patricio, they are not only more corrupt than we have imagined; they are more corrupt than we could imagine. For one thing, two slaves—and we didn't even know they kept slaves on their base on Atlantis Island—are going to be taken up to space shortly for the sexual amusement of their IG. The slaves are not necessarily expected to survive the experience. How do people like this get control of an entire world? How do we prevent them from gaining another?

"I'm working on it, Fern."

I think we are now in a position to begin to fulfill the other half of our contract with the Yamatans and move the classis to the Nicobar Straits. There are NO indicators that the Xamari pirates are anything but cowed for the moment, and even for the foreseeable future.

The rest of Fernandez's message was routine. Carrera finished reading it quickly and put it into the "save" pile. His AdC would see to it that the message joined several hundred others in a secure file with a self destruct mechanism integral to it.

The next report was from Obras Zorilleras—or OZ, though it had passed through Fernandez's office before being sent onward and bore his initials. It concerned several of the projects Carrera had been briefed on over a year ago.

Progress has been mixed, Duque. The auxiliary propelled stealthy glider, which we are calling the "Condor," exists in prototype and has been tested using ground based radar. The reduction in signature is between two and three orders of magnitude. We are planning a test using the FSC's airborne warning radar. This, however, requires three things: that we know the flight schedule of the drug interdiction patrols they run off our coasts, that we manage to get one of our people aboard their AWR flights, and that we have the prototype in position . . .

Carrera read a handscrawled note in Fernandez's writing on the margins of the page. "I'm working on it."

On the other hand, the submarine—the Megalodon Class—has been nothing but problems. We've had to redesign the thing, twice, and scrap half a dozen proposals for the power plant. The acrylic casting apparatus from Anglia is still on order. Undersea gliding has proven to be somewhat problematic, once we did the rest of the math, and unless slightly aided by the propeller it makes more noise than simply using the propeller on its own. That said, in combination the two are quieter than either is alone.

Right now, it is a thin teardrop-shaped outer hull, a much thicker and cylindrical inner pressure hull, which will be powered either by molten carbonate or solid oxide fuel cell These are both expensive but almost within the budget you gave us. (Can we have more money?)

While we have dropped the idea of using a facetted fairing for the outer, non-pressure, hull, the better to reduce flow noise, we have modified the principle by connected the inner and outer hulls with conoidal projections which will do much the same thing. By this we mean that, once active sonar has reached and passed the thin, outer, streamlined hull, the conoidal connections will further scatter it and absorb it. This is only effective for active sonar, of course . . .

"Yeah . . . right . . . "of course" . . . what the fuck do I know about this shit?"

. . . and active sonar is the least likely to be used. Still, the inner and outer hulls needed to be connected somehow and this way gives us something out of the arrangement.

The test ballast tanks for the Megalodon are prepared in prototype, since we were able to obtain the necessary acrylic casting machines (which are much smaller) and other materials needed for them. This is a new concept, and not one that everyone is in favor of. Still, they have the potential to be remarkably silent as compared to any other system in existence.

Basically, they take advantage of the very low boiling temperature of ammonia. The ammonia is kept inside of flexible tubing made of fluorocarbon elastomer with a sputtered layer of aluminum (750 Angstoms) followed by silicon monoxide (500 Angstroms) with an aerogel insulation layer. We are working on a different system, one using carbon dioxide rather than ammonia. This has issues.

"Pity I never studied any of the hard sciences but chemistry. This is all Greek to me. Still, OZ has produced before. They probably will again."

Carrera skipped ahead to the line, We believe we can have a working submarine within fifteen months, and produce two every three months thereafter. Greater funding would increase this.

"Something to think about, anyway. But let's see some progress before we commit, shall we?"

We have a fixed prototype of the Self-Propelled Laser Aid Defense (SPLAD) and are working on motorizing it.

Work on the Self-Propelled, Anti-tank, Heavy Armor (SPATHA) has gone well. Design of the modification of the Volgan T-27 to a turretless anti-tank vehicle is complete and the Kirov Factory has produced the first three prototype vehicles. We have been successful in boring out the tubes from 152mm guns to 165mm, as well as in reducing the length of the tubes. Mechanisms to handle the reduced recoil from the shorter, lower velocity tube are designed. Kirov has subcontracted for three full, reduced recoil 165mm guns to mount in the prototypes' fighting compartments. They have also arranged to have the requisite machinery built and forwarded to us. Test firing of the High Explosive Plastic shell against standard tanks with pigs strapped in place of the human crew has shown catastrophic kills to the crew can be achieved by the HEP shell. (FYI, one test pig was impaled to its seat by the coaxial machine gun being torn from its mount and driven backwards. Most of the others suffered broken necks along with other injuries.) Kirov has further produced a composite armor design which can be mounted to the front of the SPATHA and which is demonstrated to be good against the best Tauran cannon for at least one shot in any given area.

A spinoff of this is in the realm of fortifications. When we looked at the design of the composite, and realized that the hexagonal plates within it, if scaled up, would serve equally well against aerially dropped deep penetrating bombs . . .

"Well that's an interesting concept. Note to self: Advise OZ and Sitnikov to get together, too."

Speaking of air, we have been approached by an Anglian company that has a very interesting design for a series of lighter-than-air ships. We think you should consider it, or at least consider the smallest version that is intended for long term aerial surveillance. Their proposal is attached.

"Hmmm. Maybe."

Moreover, they have one mid-sized version built, capable of medium airlift or surveillance—if outfitted—that they are willing to provide, with flight crew, for testing in Pashtia. They say they will only charge for operational costs. The chief advantage to their system is that it is not actually lighter than air, but only almost as light as air. It is aerodynamically shaped, more or less like a pumpkin seed, and gets some lift from that. The shape is such that it does not need nearly so elaborate a ground setup to operate. Thus, it would be the first airship capable of tactical and strategic lift to undeveloped theaters of war.

"All right, then. Note to self: Have OZ set this up."

We have closed down the program on the terminally guided, reduced bore artillery shells, as Volga already has such a shell and is willing to sell. Their shell, which is 122mm with a sabot to fill the bore of a 180mm gun, seems adequate for the purpose you gave us.

Lastly, for purposes of this report, the Suvarov Class Heavy Cruiser has been re-equipped with new 152mm, long range guns, the Pebble Bed Modular Reactor is installed and has passed initial testing, and the refit is other wise 90% plus, complete. Crew have been assigned but are still in billets at Puerto Lindo pending completion of the refit.

XXXX

Report ends.

XXXX

"Well, that's not bad. Let's see what Lourdes has to say." For a moment Carrera felt an almost overwhelming surge of sheer horniness.

Most of Lourdes' letter was expressly designed to increase that level of horniness. In self-defense, Carrera skimmed over much of that. Then something caught his eye.

It was as expert a roping job as I have ever seen, Patricio, and I grew up on a cattle farm. Artemisia Jimenez culled your Sergeant Major from the herd, lassoed him, trussed him, and branded him hers with a dexterity I can only admire. And all in less than two weeks. The wedding is tentatively set for the week after the current contract in Pashtia is up and you, and the bulk of the legions, have returned.

And, yes, my love, I know what you are going to say, that he's more than twice her age, that he's a simple soldier and she's a sophisticated very near winner for Miss Terra Nova. I've spoken to her, personally and privately, and when she says she's in love, and moreover in love for the first and only time in her life, I believe her. Please trust me in this.

Besides that this is good for John, I must tell you it is good for me, too, as he's stopped whining about joining you in Pashtia and settled down to doing good work, the kind of good work he is better at than anyone, right here.

"Wow. The beauty queen and the old centurion? Wow. Note to self: appropriate wedding gift. Money? Possibly. House? Maybe. All expense paid honeymoon for a bare minimum."

They've asked me to set up the wedding and be the chief bridesmaid and I think John would like you to be best man. Xavier is, of course, going to give away the bride. I've been making one of the nicer upstairs rooms available to them so that Xavier can pretend not to notice that she's acting like a cat in heat and Mac's acting like a teenager.

Speaking of which, beloved, I will be wearing a mattress on my back when I meet you at the airstrip, just as you said. But you had best make sure you're the first one off the plane.

"Gotta love that girl . . . "