Read Online Extremis by Charles E. Gannon, Steve White - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles E. Gannon, Steve White
Ads: Link
recombining those two fleets to make a fast, orderly withdrawal back through Suwa to Achilles. Well, sir, if you’re to have any chance of getting all your warbirds back to that safe roost, you’re going to need all the time and space you can get.”
Watanabe tried to scowl dismissively: he was a poor actor. “Lieutenant, do you mind telling us which war college were you were teaching at before you drew courier duty for Admiral Yoshikuni?”
“Uh…my courier duty, well, that kind of just…happened, sir.”
Krishmahnta raised an eyebrow. “Would you care to explain that, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. I was dispatched from the Pan-Sentient Union naval base at Alpha Centauri to take up multi-locus liaison duties among the different militaries of the Rim.”
Watanabe closed his eyes. “You’re not at HQ anymore, Lieutenant. In English, please.”
“Yes, sir, Captain. I was sent out here to help the naval units of different species set up realistic cross-training programs, including field-training in mixed units.”
Krishmahnta leaned her chin on her knuckles. “Why out here? I thought those multispeciate initiatives were mostly the province of the Home Worlds.” And their pie-in-the-sky “all races can work as one” rhetoric. “All races equal?” Yes, absolutely. “All work as one?” Nonsense. It’s the triumph of political idealism over irreconcilable physical differences.
“Yes, sir,” Wethermere was answering, “the PSU is certainly the home of multispeciate initiatives. But the real need for them is out here. Against the Tangri.”
Captain Watanabe leaned back. “Of course. Everybody’s favorite centauroid carnivore pirates.”
Wethermere nodded. “Tangri space borders on most of the major interstellar polities, so they are a common problem. But there’s been no effort to really arrive at a common solution. Each group—Republic, Federation, Union, Orion, Ophiuchi, Gorm, others—responds in their own space, and in their own fashion. But there’s been no coordinated effort or overarching strategy.”
“And now there is one?”
“No, sir—not yet.”
Krishmahnta heard the beat of hesitation. “Not yet, Lieutenant? Were you expecting to receive a conops folder from Earth just before the Baldies showed up?”
“Er…no, sir. I was expecting to start a dialogue with the different leaders who might be interested in formulating one.”
Krishmahnta thought she heard an almost evasive tone. “So, you were sent out here with nothing more than a mandate to ‘talk’ to interested parties about setting up joint training programs. Are you aware that this objective has met with dismal failure during each of its five—no, six—prior attempts? Did someone send you out here as a practical joke, Lieutenant?”
This was the moment where an average lieutenant would possibly have frozen, or shuddered, or stammered, or broken out in a sweat, or evinced some colorful combination of all the preceding. But Wethermere simply looked directly at Krishmahnta and replied, “My mission—a practical joke? Well, yes, sir, sometimes I wonder about that myself.”
He doesn’t get rattled too easily , Erica thought. And unbidden, she heard her paradada ’s thickly accented drone: “You will know, child, when you look into the eyes of an Old Soul.” And so she did. Wethermere looked back at her—respectful, unassuming—but strangely composed and at home in himself.
Krishmahnta smiled sagely. “Unless you were going to sprout some admiral’s shoulder boards upon undertaking those initiatives, Mr. Wethermere, I predict you’d have spent a couple of years chasing your own tail with nothing to show for it. Tell me, who sent you on this assignment?”
“Well, my orders were cut by CINCTER—”
“No, Lieutenant. Who—what person —gave you your mission?”
“Erm…retired admiral Sanders, sir.”
Maybe not a fool’s errand after all , thought Krishmahnta as she entertained the hope that Watanabe
Watanabe tried to scowl dismissively: he was a poor actor. “Lieutenant, do you mind telling us which war college were you were teaching at before you drew courier duty for Admiral Yoshikuni?”
“Uh…my courier duty, well, that kind of just…happened, sir.”
Krishmahnta raised an eyebrow. “Would you care to explain that, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. I was dispatched from the Pan-Sentient Union naval base at Alpha Centauri to take up multi-locus liaison duties among the different militaries of the Rim.”
Watanabe closed his eyes. “You’re not at HQ anymore, Lieutenant. In English, please.”
“Yes, sir, Captain. I was sent out here to help the naval units of different species set up realistic cross-training programs, including field-training in mixed units.”
Krishmahnta leaned her chin on her knuckles. “Why out here? I thought those multispeciate initiatives were mostly the province of the Home Worlds.” And their pie-in-the-sky “all races can work as one” rhetoric. “All races equal?” Yes, absolutely. “All work as one?” Nonsense. It’s the triumph of political idealism over irreconcilable physical differences.
“Yes, sir,” Wethermere was answering, “the PSU is certainly the home of multispeciate initiatives. But the real need for them is out here. Against the Tangri.”
Captain Watanabe leaned back. “Of course. Everybody’s favorite centauroid carnivore pirates.”
Wethermere nodded. “Tangri space borders on most of the major interstellar polities, so they are a common problem. But there’s been no effort to really arrive at a common solution. Each group—Republic, Federation, Union, Orion, Ophiuchi, Gorm, others—responds in their own space, and in their own fashion. But there’s been no coordinated effort or overarching strategy.”
“And now there is one?”
“No, sir—not yet.”
Krishmahnta heard the beat of hesitation. “Not yet, Lieutenant? Were you expecting to receive a conops folder from Earth just before the Baldies showed up?”
“Er…no, sir. I was expecting to start a dialogue with the different leaders who might be interested in formulating one.”
Krishmahnta thought she heard an almost evasive tone. “So, you were sent out here with nothing more than a mandate to ‘talk’ to interested parties about setting up joint training programs. Are you aware that this objective has met with dismal failure during each of its five—no, six—prior attempts? Did someone send you out here as a practical joke, Lieutenant?”
This was the moment where an average lieutenant would possibly have frozen, or shuddered, or stammered, or broken out in a sweat, or evinced some colorful combination of all the preceding. But Wethermere simply looked directly at Krishmahnta and replied, “My mission—a practical joke? Well, yes, sir, sometimes I wonder about that myself.”
He doesn’t get rattled too easily , Erica thought. And unbidden, she heard her paradada ’s thickly accented drone: “You will know, child, when you look into the eyes of an Old Soul.” And so she did. Wethermere looked back at her—respectful, unassuming—but strangely composed and at home in himself.
Krishmahnta smiled sagely. “Unless you were going to sprout some admiral’s shoulder boards upon undertaking those initiatives, Mr. Wethermere, I predict you’d have spent a couple of years chasing your own tail with nothing to show for it. Tell me, who sent you on this assignment?”
“Well, my orders were cut by CINCTER—”
“No, Lieutenant. Who—what person —gave you your mission?”
“Erm…retired admiral Sanders, sir.”
Maybe not a fool’s errand after all , thought Krishmahnta as she entertained the hope that Watanabe
Similar Books
