Chapter 30: The Dismal Charge

But soft, methinks I hear

The dismal charge of trumpets’ loud retreat.

- King Edward, Edward III, Act III, Scene IV

Colonel Robert Palmer left a roomful of dismayed officers staring as his form strode through the door. It was clear the man was not in the mood for issuing any instructions to his men.

“Coach?” Lieutenant Christopher Janke stuttered as the hatch slammed shut behind the departing governor. He turned and stared in disbelief. “What do we do now?”

“Not much we can do until those damned probes report back,” Kirk Boland muttered.

“We carry on,” William Whitefeather declared with a voice as strong as tungsten carbide. “Guildenstern, Plan Coriolanus, Variation Single Foxtrot. Please brief the officers.”

“Friend William, certainly. Gentlebeings, the scenario behind the Single Foxtrot variation of Plan Coriolanus is build upon the assumption that while we can prepare for evacuation, we are not permitted to actually do so until such time as the Dangerous Ones are actually in-system.”

“That sounds like us right now,” Captain Doroshenko noted.

“The Single Foxtrot variation?” Lieutenant Cho exclamed, startled. “How many variations have you developed?”

“Friend Henry, there exist at present forty-seven variations from the standard scenario foreseen in the original Plan Coriolanus, code-named from Single Alfa to Double Uniform. My good friend Rosencrantz and I continue to formulate additional scenarios, in addition to fulfilling our other duties.”

“Oh...” Cho said, a stunned look on his face.

“Training is to be extended to include concubines and dependants. A sleep trainer course suitable for all concubines and any dependant older than six years of age has been developed. This course takes approximately nineteen minutes, forty-one point three four nine-”

“That’s accurate enough, Guildenstern. Carry on.”

“Yes, friend Whitefeather. Confederate Systems Ship Barnard Castle’s crew is to transfer their concubines to Confederate Systems Ship Dance of Spirits to keep them safe, especially any pregnant concubines. At present there are no pregnant crew aboard Confederate Systems Ship Barnard Castle, but if there had been they too would have been transferred aboard Confederate Systems Ship Dance of Spirits. The responsibility of Confederate Systems Ship Barnard Castle is to provide cover for the escaping Aurora-type transports and their full passenger loads, so to that aim the crew will concentrate on combat drills and exercises.”

Captain Katsaros nodded in grim agreement.

“The Aurora-type transports have already been reconfigured into evacuation mode, and merely have to maintain supplies at full level. All tanks will remain at full levels, and all stations will be manned and ready for instant action every watch. Drills will be called one watch per day.”

Captain Karl Becker spoke at this point. “I want a squadron evolution simulating emergency evacuation once per day, and individual ship evolutions on damage control and such. Don’t announce when, just make them up as you go along.”

As both of his captains nodded their comprehension, T’kliktguul continued his dissertation. “The Marines are to accelerate their training and preparations. Ground-based concubines and dependants are to practise quick evacuation. Drills at all hours are called for in the Plan. All transporters will be fully manned at all times.”

Whitefeather looked at his colleagues carefully. “Any disagreements? Questions? Suggestions?” As everyone, even Janke, shook their heads, he nodded. “Very well then. The Navy and Fleet Auxiliary have their instructions. All Marine officers on me, we’re going to do an on-site review. Sergeant Hopson, I’m ordering an immediate briefing of all Marine non-commissioned officers – lance-jacks on up. Please chair that meeting. Guildenstern, pass the word on that one if you please. Also, all concubines on-planet are to take the evacuation sleep-training by noon, and all dependants old enough to comprehend it to take it by seventeen hundred hours today. Remind ALL sponsors they are personally responsible for ensuring their own families take this course. Let’s move, gentlemen.”

Grimly, silently, the party broke up. Each Marine sent a subvocal message back to his own pod ordering their families to take the sleep training course immediately.

The two privates were manning an RLA-20 belt-fed machine gun on point defence at the colony’s perimeter when the four lieutenants came charging out of the nearest shelter.

Lieutenant Whitefeather barrelled down on the pair like a charging rhinoceros. “How many rounds?” he demanded brusquely.

Both privates glanced at the gun. “Ah, one thousand rounds, Sir,” the man handling the belt advised the steely-eyed Iroquois.

“And is that all you’ve got?”

“There’s more in there, Sir,” the other private offered, nodding at the bunker’s doorway.

Whitefeather glanced meaningfully at the shelf beside the gun emplacement. It was clearly intended to hold another five or six ammunition boxes, but currently held a couple of brown bags. When he picked up one and looked inside, it proved to hold a roast beef sandwich on a kaiser roll, a small boxed salad and a slice of carrot cake loaf.

He glared at the two privates. “Your last-ditch defence?” he asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “Going to distract the Swarm with food while you got more ammo?”

“My lunch, Sir,” one of the privates mumbled in embarrassment.

“Where’s the duty sergeant?”

The two men shrugged.

“AI?”

“Friend William,” came the dulcet tones of T’kliktguul, “it appears that some inconsiderate officer has ordered his sergeant to brief all non-commissioned officers immediately. The order is currently being carried out in Lecture Room Three.”

Whitefeather had the grace to blush. “Mea culpa,” he admitted. “All Marines on duty on the perimeter, please.”

“Friend William, I stand ready to transmit your orders.”

“All machine gun emplacements have a shelf beside them to hold a ready supply of ammunition. All privates not manning a machine gun are to hustle down to the bunkers and start taking ammo boxes to the gunners in their sector. Any questions? Good. Move!”

All around the perimeter, men placed their RLI-1 rifles in the care of one of their machine gun crews and raced to carry out the lieutenant’s bidding.

As Whitefeather and his fellow officers walked the perimeter, he mercilessly reviewed the status of the line. He wasn’t happy with what he saw – but then, with the Swarm coming, they could have a line of US Navy Vulcan Gatling guns with Hollywood-sized bottomless magazines standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and he still would be finding deficiencies.

Finally, he led his humbled, shaken class of inexperienced officers into the transporter nexuses in one of the bunkers. They emerged in the colony’s main transporter room, steps from Lecture Room Three.

“ROOM!” cried one of the lance-corporals as the officers strode in.

“Carry on,” Lieutenant Whitefeather ordered.

“They’ve been briefed, Sir,” Sergeant Hopson advised laconically before Whitefeather had a chance to ask.

“Good,” was Whitefeather’s equally laconic response. “Has everyone ordered their families into the sleep trainers?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“Good,” he said as he reached the podium. “If you look at your data pads, you will discover we’ve uploaded a revised training schedule. Learn it, be prepared for instant changes as weaknesses are uncovered. We plan to modify it frequently to ensure everyone gets a fair rotation and anyone needing more time at a particular drill gets it. We haven’t a second to waste.”

Everyone glanced at their pads to confirm that indeed, the plan of the day had changed – for everyone.

“We’ve doubled the range time and added cross-training on some of the heavier weapons. If a gun team or a mortar team gets taken out, we need to have the nearest private take it over and man it until the battle’s over. I know we’ve started on the cross-training, but now we need to push it, really push it. We’ll be testing everyone from privates to us leftenants to ensure we’re as up to speed as we can make ourselves. Now let’s go through this in detail. We don’t have a lot of time.”