Bolo Brigade (27 page)

She made a face. "As good as can be expected, I suppose. The government promised us some engineers to build waste-treatment plants, raise permanent buildings, that sort of thing, but they're a little slow in delivering. I'm worried, Donal. It's twelve more weeks to the start of this hemisphere's winter, and it's going to start getting cold at night long before that. We can't have fifty thousand kids living in tents and plyboard huts much longer."

"I know, I know." He leaned back and rubbed his hands down over his eyes and face. The scratch of beard stubble startled him. How long had it been since the party? He counted back and realized it had been three days. So long? Where was the time going? "Do you have enough food? Water?"

"So far, yes. Citizens groups down in Kinkaid have chipped in and given us all the food we need, so that's not a problem. And we have Lake Simms for water, at least for now. But with that many people camping out, and as hard as it is to maintain field lavatory discipline in these conditions, well, we could have a problem with the purity of the lake water pretty soon, now. Typhus. Dysentery. Cholera. Most people nowadays don't know the meaning of those names. We're going to find out though, if we don't get decent waste treatment in place, and damned fast."

"Freddy," Donal said. "Make a note for me. I'll talk with Phalbin . . . no, better yet. Chard. Tell him he's going to have a plague on his hands if he doesn't deliver."

"Yes, Commander."

Alexie looked startled. "Was that the Bolo?"

"That's Freddy. Say hello, Freddy."

"Good afternoon, Deputy Director Turner," Freddy's voice said.

"Uh, hello." She looked at Donal. "I feel a bit self-conscious."

"Just like talking to me, except his vocabulary's better. Also, he doesn't tend to get excited, wave his arms, and shout."

"I knew Bolos could talk, but I've never heard one before."

"We've had the hardware to convert digitized words to sound for over a thousand years now. We take talking computers for granted. That's all Freddy is, after all."

"Yes, but he's so . . .
big
. . . ."

Donal laughed. "He is that."

"So, you've been getting ready for the Malach in case they're on the way."

"Trying to, anyway. I've got the complete log of what happened on Wide Sky uploaded to Freddy and Ferdy, along with all of the Skyan recordings of the Malach and the Mark XVIII's battle with them. That's what we've been going over, mostly."

"So you can develop effective strategies, then." She nodded. "Fitz thought that a lot of the problem the Militia had on Wide Sky was the fact that we didn't have time to try different things, find strategies that would work. They just jumped us and bang. It was over."

"Mmm."

"What? What's wrong?"

He scowled, reaching for a file folder on a console nearby. "Not to sound defeatist, but, well, look at this."

He opened the folder and handed her a print-out flimsy, watching her face as she read it. He'd long since committed the thing to memory.

from: hq confederation military authority, kinkaid

to: ragnor, lt. donal, 15th gladius brigade, muir bolo command

re: bolo deployment and active field exercises

date: 7 agnis

time: 15:23 hours

1. after careful review of your report and request for active field deployment, 1st company, 1st regiment, 15th gladius brigade, your request is hereby denied.

2. current threat levels have been assessed at code three [yellow]. active deployment of bolos in your command would cause unnecessary collateral damage inconsistent with current threat levels.

3. cma tactical planning staff has determined that, in event of enemy landings on muir, a conservative defense of key centers will offset the enemy's probable numerical superiority, forcing him to expend large numbers of his troops in attacking interlocking and well-positioned defensive forces at great cost to himself.

4. should current threat levels rise to code two [orange], you, as co, muir bolo command, will use your discretion in placing your units to defend likely approaches to the capital and spaceport.

5. you are hereby directed to conduct an immediate survey of likely sites for bolo emplacement, contingent on possible enemy approaches to the kinkaid spaceport area.

barnard phalbin, general, co, 15th gladius brigade

She frowned at the flimsy, and looked up. " 'A conservative defense?' "

"He means 'static.' As in turning Freddy and Ferdy into two very large, heavily armed fortresses. They've decided that when we know which direction the Malach are coming from, we drop a couple of forts in their way to block them."

"But . . . the Malach war machines are fast.
Maneuverable
. They'd just go around."

"Sure. I see that. You see that." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the base headquarters. "
They're
having a little trouble with the idea of fire
and
maneuver. Sometimes I think Phalbin has just reached the point where he thinks the Maginot Line is a great idea."

"Maginot Line? What's that?"

"Nothing. Sorry. My ratrap mind gets cluttered up with useless garbage, sometimes."

"What's this 'collateral damage' thing?"

"Collateral damage is when the army breaks something it doesn't want to. Like civilians. In this case, it means that they're worried about what happens to the roads and farmer's fields and civilian property if I take these two land dreadnoughts out for a spin."

"You're not saying they would fire on civilian targets, are you?"

"No! Not at all. But, well . . . look. A Mark XXIV Bolo is eighty meters long, with four sets of spun monocarbide tracks each thirty-five meters long and ten meters wide, running on road wheels five meters tall, and it masses fourteen thousand tons. That gives it a ground pressure of ten tons per square meter. Despite that, it has a road speed of eighty kilometers per hour . . . and can sprint to one hundred thirty-five kilometers per hour.

"What all of that means is that when a Bolo takes off, it destroys things. Leaves a track of devastation in its trail like you wouldn't believe. Groundcar roadways, skimmer rails, even monocarb-reinforced ferrocrete aprons and landing strips are just chewed to rubble by those tracks. Even crawling out at dead-slow walking speed, fourteen-K metric tons sinks into the topsoil quite a bit, as much as a meter if the ground is soft, and more when it's muddy. They smash fences around farmer's fields, churn up plowed fields, demolish drainage ditches, canals, and streams, wreck underground cable, pipeline, and sewage systems, knock over transmission towers, and carve forty-meter firebreaks through forests where you might not want them. Phalbin's afraid that if I let my babies here out, he's going to have every farmer, planter, landholder, and forest ranger within a hundred kilometers out for his blood."

She chuckled. "Sounds like your Bolos aren't meant for polite company."

"No, Alexie, they're not. But then, war isn't exactly a refined pastime. And that's what they're built for. All-out, unrestricted, no-holds-barred, kick-'em-in-the-groin warfare."

"Like the Malach," she said, sobering.

"It's the only way to fight," he told her, "and still have a chance to win. Which is why this . . ." He snatched the flimsy from her hand and crumpled it into a tiny ball, then flicked it with his forefinger past her head and across the compartment like a tiny white missile. ". . . isn't worth the paper it's printed on."

"You sound angry. I gather you wanted to take them out?"

"Damn it, Alexie, they're not letting us do our job! I'm this close . . ." He held up thumb and forefinger a few millimeters apart. ". . .
this
close to thinking someone in the government is deliberately trying to sabotage us."

Her eyes widened. "What . . . a traitor? That's a pretty serious charge."

He hesitated a moment, then looked up toward the ceiling. "Freddy? Give me hardcopy on currently active ROEs, please."

"Printing."

Sheets of paper began scrolling out of a printer slot and into a tray.

Donal reached across and handed them to her. "Treason or stupidity," he said bitterly, "it has the same results. Here. Have a look at this."

"Rows?" Alexie asked, accepting the printout. "As in a row of something?"

"R-O-E," Donal told her. "Rules of Engagement. The rules we have to follow if things get hot. I can't think of a better way to cripple a Bolo than these."

"Wait a minute," she said, trying to understand. She felt a rush of anger. The enemy here was a race that had attacked her world without warning, without reason. "You're saying that these are rules to
fight
by? As in fighting fair?"

He smiled, a thin-lipped, hard, and humorless quirking at the corner of his lips. "ROEs have been with us for a good many thousands of years," he said. "You have to remember that throughout human history, warfare has basically been an extension of politics."

"An extension?" she said. "Uh-uh. A failure of politics, maybe. But not an extension. I'm a politician, remember. I ought to know."

Donal shrugged. "As you like. But think. Your neighbor does something you don't want him to do, like steal your sheep. You negotiate, tell him not to do that. He steals more sheep. So what do you do? You've got several options. You could send your whole army across the border, slaughter all of his sheep, and cows, and prigs, and drox, and every other domestic animal he has. Burn his villages. Slaughter his young men. Rape his women. Enslave his children. The trouble is, now your neighbor is
really
mad. He might come and slaughter your drox, rape your women, burn your villages, and so on. So, before your army sets off, you write down a few simple rules for them to follow. Something like, 'this is a raid. Steal all of the enemy's sheep you can, but don't kill his people unless you have to defend yourselves. Burn his military supply dumps, but don't burn his villages. Take prisoners as hostages, but treat them well because he might have some of your people as hostage.' After all, all you want to do is punish the guy and make him stop stealing your sheep, maybe take back the sheep he stole with a little interest added, not engage in wholesale genocide . . . especially if it might be
your
genocide if you're not careful."

"Restrained warfare," she said. "It sounds like an oxymoron. A contradiction in terms."

"Doesn't always work," he said. "There's this nasty human tendency to get all righteous and officious and start escalating things. 'Well, he stole my sheep
and
ten cows, so I'm going to steal all of his sheep and twenty cows,' that sort of thing."

"Fine, but we're talking about the Malach here," Alexie reminded him. "Not sheep stealers. These four-eyed lizards came in and stole my whole damned planet. And Endatheline before that. Now they're making a grab for Muir."

"Warfare has been considerably more complicated since we broke out into the Galaxy," he admitted. "Wars fought with aliens are a whole different proposition, because we don't always understand their points of view, how they think, or what they want. Nor can humans work up the same degree of sympathy for something that looks like, well, like a four-eyed, four-armed lizard with big teeth, as compared to somebody who looks like your Uncle Joe."

"I don't have an Uncle Joe."

"I did. Dreadful person. I'd steal his sheep without a second thought."

Alexie turned her full attention back to the printouts, reading the listed Rules of Engagement carefully.

1: under no circumstances will bolo units fire on unknown forces unless they are fired upon first.

2: bolo units will submit requests for tactical operational freedom one full muir rotation ahead of the expected time of execution.

3: bolo units will submit plans for specific operations of a strategic nature ten full muir rotational periods ahead of the expected time of execution.

4: bolo units will determine the friend/foe status of unknown targets with 100 percent probability before engaging them in combat.

5: any order to fire first in an engagement will be cross-checked with bolo command hq for accuracy and for legal authority before opening fire.

6: if necessary, each order to fire will be cross-checked with brigade hq, military command authority kinkaid for accuracy and for legal authority before engagement begins.

7: under no circumstances will bolos enter private property unless they are engaged in code one status red alert activities. status of property or property ownership will be ascertained through direct contact with the kinkaid bureau of land management, the office of the secretary of property rights.

8: bolos forced to enter private property while engaged in code one status red alert activities will ascertain damage to property and submit a report to the bureau of land management, the office of the secretary of property rights, the kinkaid tax and assize office, the governor's secretary for land management, and the office of the commander, muir military command authority.

9: when possible, all bolos will apply for right of access through the governor's secretary for land management or one of his senior officers.

10: property damage assessment should include estimates of loss of or damage to vehicles and buildings on said property; damage to fences, field generators, outbuildings, wells, power plants, and other privately owned infrastructural assets; damage to or destruction of subsurface conduits, sewage pipes, gas pipes, cable links, and other subsurface public infrastructural assets; damage to crops, plowed fields, fallow fields, topsoil, and other agricultural assets; damage to or destruction of privately or publicly owned equipment including but not limited to graders, planters, reapers, and other heavy equipment; damage to or destruction of public or private ground transport highways, maglev rails, skimmer ways, landing fields, or paved public or private areas.

11: all bolos are absolutely prohibited from entering town or city limits.

12: all bolos are absolutely prohibited from firing at targets located within 45 degrees of town or city areas within range of that fire, unless explicit permission is first obtained from the governor of muir or the commanding officer muir military command authority.