“Oh, shit,” whispered Duncan.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” asked Gunny Pappas in an incredulous voice.
“Yep. We now own the forces in D.C.,” said O’Neal in a definite voice. He suddenly realized that Major Givens might have liked to be informed. He had just sent a message to an Army General telling him that a lowly battalion, commanded by a major, was taking command of one of his Armies. If it was anyone but Jack Horner it would be impossible, whatever the standing orders. “Shelly, slug this plan to him so he understands what we’re doing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are they going to listen?” asked Duncan.
“That is where you come in. The first order will be to reestablish the automated fire control network. The AIDs will stomp any virus they find so security won’t be an issue. Get that up. After that, we will have control. Without direct orders to the contrary, the cannon cockers will follow the computer guidance. And the computers will follow our orders.”
“Then what?” asked Duncan. He knew his own AID would be taking in the details.
“Shelly?”
“The next problem is Command. We are short three of four combat company commanders.”
“Pass. Nightingale can carry the company,” said O’Neal. Lord, hear my prayer. “Same for Alpha’s XO. We’ll use Bravo for the shock company and Alpha and Charlie for support.”
“This scenario will require all three line companies to interact perfectly,” the AID demurred.
“If needs be, I’ll take direct command of the suits. Start preparing a program to lead every trooper in Alpha and Charlie by the hand. We can slug them to replicate the actions of Bravo troops. That will give us three times the firepower for each Bravo shooter. Delta’s Reapers will be under control of fire-support. They won’t be a problem. Next.”
“Communications.”
“Handle it.”
“Captain, I cannot handle the entire communications strategy!” the AID responded. The tone was almost hysterical. “There are too many variables.”
“Define the problem,” Duncan interjected.
“We will require the support of forces in the area to accomplish the mission,” his own AID responded, unexpectedly. The device had a slightly different voice than Shelly, more of a contralto. “Captain O’Neal, you yourself specified level eight difficulty. Given that, we will need the majority of the forces in the area for base of fire. We will need a complete fire control network. We will need communications to higher headquarters for logistical support. And we will need to maintain communications intelligence monitoring. We AIDs cannot handle all of that alone. We will be heavily tasked to maintain local coordination. Especially if you have to take direct suit command.”
“Agreed. Okay, okay.” Mike suddenly wished he could scratch his head. Inside the pod he couldn’t even pop the helmet; there was no room. “Pass for right now. Next.”
“That’s it,” answered Shelly. “With the forces in the area or approaching it we will have the force necessary to retake and destroy any two bridges that are no more than six miles apart.”
“Okay. Duncan, Pappas, I’m open to suggestions on the communications problem.”
“Debbie,” said Duncan, “how are you planning on communicating out of the battalion? That is, who are you planning on talking to?”
“We would normally communicate with the local commander. However, there isn’t a local commander. The units are fragments.” Suddenly on all three screens a map of the area around the Washington Mall popped up. It was scattered with dots and blobs of all the colors of the rainbow. There was little or no rhyme or reason to the colors. “Each of the different colors represents a unit which has made it to D.C. It is based on a spectrum of units from each of the divisions involved. Therefore, units that are from vaguely similar units would have vaguely similar colors.”
Mike made an okay sign with his hand. It was the body signal the ACS had developed to replace nodding the head. “Okay. Nice picture.”
“Thank you.”
“And of course,” he continued, “that’s not what’s there. These units are randomly mixed.”
“Correct. A complete higgledy-piggledy. A mishmash. A hodgepodge…”
“Yes, thank you. We get the picture. So that is the communications problem. You’d be required to find the frequency of each unit and broadcast to it.”
“Correct. We actually have the frequencies of all the units that have communicated. However, there are others that are not communicating at all. They might not even have radios.”
“Are they all at the Mall?” Duncan asked.
“Many of them are,” Shelly answered. “It is a prime destination. The units from Ninth Corps are trying to find transport to their bases. Tenth Corps units are just lost.
“Christ,” muttered Gunny Pappas. “What a rat-fuck.”
“Dantren,” Duncan said, cryptically.
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “Remarkable how the Posleen keep doing this to us.” The first expeditionary force to Diess had had its mobile units trapped by advancing Posleen in an Indowy megascraper. The siege had been lifted by then-Lieutenant O’Neal’s platoon. In that case the hard-hit American and British units had been reduced to scattered squads.
“What about artillery?” asked Duncan, taking a closer look at the unit data on the screen. Most of the units seemed to be from front-line combat forces.
“Artillery and Service and Support units generally have stayed together better,” answered Shelly. “Although many of them have crossed farther upriver, those that were caught in the Arlington pocket have mostly crossed the river and are assembling in the area of Chevy Chase and Rock Creek Park. The remnants of Ninth Corps’s Artillery are actually assembling at the Chevy Chase Country Club.”
The first sergeant snorted. “Hate to see the bill for that.”
“Yeah,” snorted O’Neal. “Anybody sends me a bill, I’ll tell ’em to stick it where the monkey put the peanut. Duncan.”
“Sir?”
“This is going to hinge on fire-support. Get with those units. Get them to not just assemble but get ready to fire.”
“Yes, sir,” he said dubiously.
“If you get any guff, call General Horner, directly,” Mike said definitely.
“Okay,” Duncan answered in the same tone.
“Do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gunny.”
“Sir.”
“Start setting up some commo with those units on the mall. Figure out a scheme for assembly and get them assembling. Get the units you can cajole to start making signs for assembly areas. Use the color scheme you’ve already got.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Try to put some spine into them. We’re going to have to get support. Remind everyone and anyone that if the Posleen cross the Potomac, we’ll be running all the way to the goddamn Susquehanna.”
“Right.”
“Ask your AID for help.”
“Not a problem, sir.”
“Okay. Good.” Mike desperately wished he could rub his face. “Okay, Shelly. Anything else.”
“Just one thing,” she responded.
“Yes?”
“This scenario will require forces that are willing to stand and fight. That is not a normal characteristic of routed forces.”
“Well,” said Mike softly. “We’ll just have to hope that the survivors were not just the ones with the fastest horses, but also the best aim.”
CHAPTER 62
Fairfax, VA, United States of America, Sol III
0726 EDT October 11th, 2004 ad
The Suburban lurched as it crossed the toothpick remains of a backyard fence.