Supplanted
Chapter 9: The Long Journey Home

I boarded the USS Faust amid so much pomp and circumstance that I considered ejecting myself out of an airlock. Apparently, the naming of a new CO for a newly reformed regiment is something of a big deal; even more so than a new General arriving on planet (although I didn’t stay to see all of that hoopla). I had to endure three long speeches; one very long one made via holo-vid by Gen. Josten in full military regalia, and many passes in review of my new outfit around the mess hall deck as I tried to look as commander-like as possible. After the ordeal, I was ushered by no less than a dozen new subordinate officers to my command quarters. There I was left to my own thoughts for a moment.

My first thought was that I could live quite comfortably in my quarters until the end of my days. The entry hall alone was bigger than my house on Wilson’s World. Rollo would have found the closet very comfortable for nesting. The master bedroom could have been a barracks. The private bath was enough for twenty grunts, and the ready room adjacent to my quarters was almost the size of my front acreage. I wondered if every carrier had command quarters this large; it would certainly explain why the pilots and crews were so cramped; and I wasn’t even the captain of the ship. (His quarters were one deck above mine as it was closer to the bridge.)

I had enough time to unpack my uniforms (all three of them) before there was a knock at my door. I answered it to find an efficiently equipped second lieutenant standing there at attention.

“Second Lieutenant Constance Madrid reporting for duty as the Colonel’s aide-de-camp, sir!” she smartly saluted. I returned her salute and asked her to come in. She marched in and stood at attention before me as I closed the door.

“What’s my schedule, Lieut.?” I quipped officially. I hoped I didn’t sound too raw, this was my first use of an aide-de-camp in my first real command situation; I was relying on my memory of past commandants to make myself appear competent; not to fool her into respecting me or anything, just to make us both comfortable. I’m sure all of my predecessors aged twenty one or thereabouts, having been promoted over their heads, did the same thing, or at least something similar. The lieut. snapped open her digital clipboard and shouted out what she read there.

“1800 – briefing with General Josten. 2000 – dinner with Captain Stovall. 2130 – briefing with the men. 2200 – lights out. Is there anything the Colonel would wish to add?” 2lt. Madrid readied her stylus in order to add to my schedule, if necessary.

“Nothing at this time, Lieutenant,” I told her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to organize a few things before attending the briefing.” I moved to escort her to the door.

“Begging the Colonel’s pardon,” she said still standing stiffly at attention, “but I am under orders from the General to be at your side at all times. I’m not to leave your presence under any circumstances.” I had to smile; she was so stoical.

“What if I’m in the latrine?” I jokingly asked her. “If I remember correctly, females are still not permitted in the men’s room.” I smiled at her; she didn’t smile back.

“I’m not to leave your presence under any circumstances,” she reiterated. “All bodily functions are included. In the General’s words, ‘He’s not to wipe his ass if you’re not there to do it for him’, unquote.” I almost busted a gut.

“Do you mean,” I began while trying not to dissolve into uncontrollable laughter, “that I can’t even take a shower if you’re not there to scrub my back? Don’t you think that the General has exceeded his authority a bit? I mean, are you going to be sleeping with me, or just standing guard all night at my bedside? You are allowed alone time for yourself, am I right?”

Second Lieutenant Constance Madrid twitched slightly before answering. “In the General’s own words, sir, ‘When he showers, you loofah his back; when he shits, you wipe his ass; when he pees, you hold his dick for him; when he fucks, you’re to be a threesome,’ unquote.”

“Lieutenant,” I tried to say between snickers, “those are illegal orders. You are not to follow them, understood?”

The Lieutenant twitched again. “I may be new to the Colonel’s staff, but I am fully capable of fulfilling my duties as assigned.” She became rigid in her physical stance as well as in her mental attitude.

I was beginning to see that talking her out of this rationally was going to take some time, and my amusement was getting harder to contain. “Okay, Lieut., you win; for now. But understand this: I have been on my own fending for myself my entire life. I don’t need a babysitter of any rank to ‘wipe my ass’ for me or anything else. You will do what you’re told by me when you are told to do it; and if I so desire to use the toilet all by myself, I’ll throw you in the brig if you try to interfere. Am I clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” 2lt. Madrid shouted. “But. . .” I stopped her right there.

“No ‘buts’, Lieutenant,” I was losing my sense of humor. “I will not be made a fool of by you or the General. I will have my private life kept private. With an emphasis on ‘private’, if you catch my meaning, Lieutenant.” She looked to me as if she were going to cry. Her bottom lip quivered as she answered my tirade.

“But. . ., but I want to do it, . . . sir.” I damn near fainted from shock as she continued. “I may be only sixteen, and maybe I was just a corporal just a week ago, but I’ve been in battle, I’ve proven my worth. This assignment means the world to me; the whole universe. Out of all the candidates for this position, I beat out all of ’em. I wanted to be the one who stood beside the great Colonel Johansson during the glorious victory over the enemy.” She nearly broke down in tears when she begged me, “You can’t send me away, sir. . . you just can’t.” A tear rolled down her cheek. I didn’t know whether to be angry or sympathetic. I chose neither.

“Lieutenant Madrid, compose yourself,” I tried to sound military. “It is now nearly 1800 hours. Unless the General is coming in here for the scheduled briefing, I suggest we go to where we can see him.” I would deal with this ridiculous situation later.

Constance wiped her eyes on a well hidden handkerchief. “Yes, sir!” she barked, allowing her professionalism to push her emotions aside. “We are to be in your ready room when he holo-vids in. This way, sir.” She led me to the adjoining room, which I already knew was where we were meant to be. I don’t think that I liked having so enthusiastic an aide. This would take some getting used to.

Once through the door, I met a room full of officers who hadn’t been in there minutes ago; most of whom I’d already met at the parade and welcoming ceremony, and most of them in their mid teen years. I didn’t recognize the Captain of the Faust, for he was on duty at the time of my arrival, but his uniform gave him away instantly. I returned his salute and shook his proffered hand. We barely had two words together when the sound of the General’s briefing filled the room. We all took our seats.

Entry 9a

The Plan

I will now summarize the plan of attack, rather than relive the hours long briefing that we endured.

In essence, the fleet was to be separated into three attack units. The first unit was to spearhead a pathway through any and all of the enemy’s defenses, and lead our advance directly to their home world. This first unit was composed of eight full carriers, including the Wild Man. Additional support fighters would be launched from the second unit, which would be following the first unit in, as needed to keep this attack corridor cleared for the bulk of our attack force. Once the second unit was through, the first unit would commence mopping-up procedures to eliminate the enemy’s ability to wage war at any future time, and guard our flanks. The element of surprise was crucial. Should the first unit fail to clear our path, or be decimated by unexpected resistance, the use (and possible loss) of so few carriers in this first wave would be damaging to our success, if not disastrous. We were counting on the enemy not expecting a counterattack. They’d never experienced one before as it was, as it was against our wartime strategy. The reasons for that strategy would become clear very soon.

The second unit was composed of all of the remaining outer world carriers and support ships that we had assembled at Wilson’s World - minus, of course, a dozen carriers left to protect the Gamma system from possible recursions from the enemy while we were away winning the war. In this second unit, most of the ships – carriers and converted civilian ships - had been filled to bursting with ground assault troops. This was how the Faust was manned. Only a skeleton flight crew, the fighter pilots and the shuttle pilots were aboard in addition to the three hundred Rough Riders. Ground assault troops would be dropped from a vanguard of carriers once we were in the atmosphere of the enemy’s home planet. Ships that had been converted to troop ships were to land on the planet once a landing zone had been secured. The Faust would be joined by nineteen other carriers and landing ships that would spread out over the planet’s surface and take the fight to the enemy’s streets; or whatever they had on their world that functioned as streets.

If you’re wondering why we don’t just bomb them like they bombed us, the answer is quite simple: we have no bombers. Our defense fleets are composed strictly of carriers that meet the enemy when they come to us. We had never built assault ships to be used to invade enemy territory, that’s not how we wanted to fight the war. We would have preferred to settle this conflict diplomatically and not fought at all, but that option was now long gone. In summary, we were fighting a defensive war, not an offensive one. I don’t know the details as to why or who was responsible for that decision.

The third unit was to be our rear guard and reinforcements. It was to be composed of the one hundred ships that were to join up with us in the Alpha sector. Since they would be least likely to be at full strength, the General thought it best to have these new arrivals guard our rear (and possibly, our retreat, although this was never admitted openly) and keep any remaining enemy craft in space from attacking our exposed rear flank. The term “covering our asses” fit nicely here and was expressed in just those words more than once during the briefing.

Our fleet was already in route to the Alpha sector when our briefing began. We were also to rendezvous with the Enterprise and Charlemagne when we got there. Due to the inclusion of several civilian vessels carrying troops and supplies, we were flying at half speed. It would take us three full days to reach Earth and an additional day to brief and outfit the rest of the attack force; then we would embark for the Epsilon sector and “glorious victory”.

Three days. Three days to think about it. Three days to appear confident and competent to my troops. Three days to get 2lt. Madrid off my back.

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