Chapter 21: Shuffling the Deck

Morning parade held a surprise announcement: the formation of a corps of cadets, aged ten to thirteen. Before the child could join, he or she would have an assessment – basically, a simplified, unofficial CAP test to pre-screen for potential sponsorship CAP scores – and be assigned to whichever service best suited his or her aptitude.

After the parade, Samantha met in the Commanding Officer's Boardroom with the Colonel, his battalion commanders and Butch. All of them had two questions for Michael: why, and how will this work?

The Colonel answered the "why" first. "Last night, Optio Redburn made a remark about how the youngsters out here were maturing faster than their Earth-based counterparts. The reason is that they're seeing adults do adult stuff and through sleep-training are receiving their education at an already accelerated rate. Normally on Earth, they'd be expected to receive the kind of military education I have in mind through cadet units, but that extends from 13 years of age through to the end of high school, when they'd be expected to enter the cadet units' parent militia regiments and reserve units. After seeing how my daughter and her new boyfriend behaved, I realized they were more mature than their contemporaries still living on Earth. We need to start giving the kids this sort of training at a far younger age out in the Diaspora than we did back on the home planet.

"In the evening, we'll have a couple of hours for training from Monday through Thursday, and three more on Sunday morning. Volunteer some sergeants and corporals. We'll rotate the kids through the various battalions so they get a sampling of tactics and arms from every angle, and we'll also work with the Navy to get them some time learning about ship life."

The room groaned. Navy and Marines just did not get along together.

Michael glowered at the disapproval. "Not everyone is cut out to be a Marine. Some of our offspring are going to be better suited to be Navy and others Fleet Auxiliary. Would any of you object if your child decided to be a Civil Service officer, like young Redburn here, rather than a Marine? And I fully intend to have the base brats from Scott included in this Cadet scheme. Now, uniforms." He thought for a moment. "Any ideas?"

"By your leave, Colonel," requested Samantha. The colonel nodded. "AI, please give me a 3D model to work with, about the age of the cadets." The figure of Daniel Bachelor appeared in front of everyone. "Cute," commented Samantha sardonically as the rest of the room gently chuckled. "Now give him a standard Confederacy dress uniform cut, but red jacket and black pants, with red stripe down the trousers. Black boots and a black Sam Browne belt. Same rank badges as the adults. Red wedge cap."

The figure rapidly took on the uniform that Samantha was describing. "Looks like someone left their collection of Mounties out in the rain, and they shrank," someone commented, and the room had a brief burst of laughter.

"We can use that for the Monday training," suggested Chaz, "but I think we need something for every day. Let's see about a daily dress, maybe something along the lines of the Fort Henry Guards?"

Another 3-D copy of Daniel Bachelor appeared, dressed in a red pocket-less jacket and wearing a pillbox hat. At Sergeant-Major Blondell's suggestion, a swagger stick, thinner than a pace stick and therefore lighter, appeared, firmly grasped under the figure's left arm.

All present gave their stamp of approval, and the meeting broke up.

Colonel Deschenes, Optio Redburn, Lieutenant-Colonel Desrocher and Lieutenant-Colonel Waterman were sitting at a table together having lunch in the Officers' Club when Admiral Van De Graaf walked into the room, looking pleased as punch. "May I join you gentlemen, lady?"

When an Admiral wants to join a table, a chair can be found quite quickly, and that proved the case for this Admiral. "You are looking quite pleased with the universe today, Admiral," observed Waterman, as the waitress/concubine hustled over to take his order. "Have we won a big battle somewhere? Oh, and may I buy you a drink, Sir?"

"Thank you very much," the Admiral responded. "A Manhattan, please. And the battle we've won is political, not military. You have your first three Tarawas arriving tomorrow."

Samantha felt the pressure of her position, but kept her cool. "How many concubines will I have to look after? And please, Admiral, a bit more warning next time would go down nicely."

"You got all the warning I got, young lady – the message drone just popped out of hyperspace an hour ago. The ships aren't permanently assigned here, so unless and until that status changes no families are expected. They only have one concubine per sailor on board, and those will be staying with the ship. No dependants. I'll ask you to pay a courtesy call with me to the ships, to ensure the concubines are still being decently treated."

"Of course, Admiral, delighted to come along. When do we go?"

He glanced at her. "Eager young beaver, aren't you?" Carruthers blushed at the double entendre and cleared his throat as his brother Marine officers shot Samantha's future lover amused looks. "The Bataan, Kearsarge and Tripoli get here at oh five fifty hours, as you lot put it. The minute they finish docking, we go on board. Be at my headquarters at oh-five-fifteen, and we'll head up to Harbour Control together."

"Aye aye, Sir." Samantha whispered into her wristband unit – she'd need to be up and awake by 04:30 to make that appointment and still get fed first.

"You still have this officer in a wrist unit?" demanded a disbelieving Admiral.

"The AI won't give her a subvocalization unit until she has her official CAP test in four weeks and a day," advised Michael. "I've tried to convince them, to no avail."

The Admiral snorted. "I'm sure one of my communications staff can whip together something like a Bluetooth headpiece. Far more convenient than that silly Dick Tracey crap. Oh, and Colonel, can I have a word in private, after lunch?"

Michael nodded, mystified.

After lunch found Michael and Chaz meeting with the Admiral and his aide Lieutenant Simonetti in the Colonel's boardroom.

"Here's our latest intelligence on the Sa'arm in this sector. They're sticking to our projected time line, which means we now have the ability to slow them down, and hopefully stop them from advancing any farther in this direction." The Admiral ordered the AI to add the Colonel's senior staff to the security lock on the file.

"Now, as you can see, we have a small window of opportunity but if we work fast we have the ability to stop them from taking over Hesperus Three. Those Tarawas didn't just show up because Earthat is feeling generous; they want you to send them, the Sir Lancelots and every ship we can spare to Hesperus within the next week. Leave the heavy tanks behind; we don't have space for them. We're expecting that by next week, the first Hive ship will enter that space. We're going to hike on over there, destroy the Hive ship and if they've had a chance to land, dig them out from underground. It'll be a Combined Operations event, utilizing Marines on Hesperus Three, Fleet operations in orbit, and those new Patrol Combatant sub-type ships seeing what mischief they can get into. Right now we've got six PC's, I'm trying to get more. They're small, but they punch above their weight."

Neither Michael nor Chaz could give much of a damn about the fleet – they were ground pounders through and through. They immediately started planning their attack.

"Maximum effort?" Chaz asked.

"Maximum effort," Michael confirmed. "We want to kick them out and keep them out of Hesperusat. If we can deny them Hesperus as a Sa'arm world, we don't have to worry about them making an attempt on Thuleat."

Chaz and Admiral Van De Graaf nodded in fierce agreement.