Chapter Seven
The command and general staff filed back into the conference room an hour later, and Madeline was relieved to note that the air smelled far more like coffee than anything else. Eventually, she and Enoch had called on both Aurelian and Cornelius, and then later, on General Marwan. They had managed to agree on what seemed like a viable series of next steps that would hopefully turn the tide of momentum against their enemies.
“Good evening, everyone,” began Cornelius, standing up as the people in the room settled. “I hope that you have had the chance to get some rest and refreshment. Coffee is available on the sideboard for those that wish it.”
No one moved. They were all focused on the slender man in the immaculate gray suit, and the sense of expectation was palpable.
He gave a small cough. “Very well, then. Our plan of attack has three stages. The first stage is disruption.” Cornelius clicked on a remote, and a map of Tarma’s principal continent appeared on the main screen.
“Here are the main bases and supply areas for General Branko’s forces,” he said, and a number of phosphorescent green dots appeared on the map. “In red, you will see the enemy bases which have been infiltrated by Lord Immanuel’s troops.” A third of the bases changed color from green to red.
“The infiltrated bases will each experience a major destructive event,” Cornelius continued. “The nature of each event will be determined by the infiltrators themselves; they are in the best position to judge what would be most effective. The events will be simultaneous.” On the map, each red base disappeared in a white burst.
“The second stage will be outreach,” continued Cornelius. Clicking on the remote, a new set of areas was highlighted. “These are the forces that are currently neutral. After the destructive events, we will reach out to the neutral commanders with the aim of convincing them that we will be the victorious side, and that they would be wise to join with us. According to our intelligence, there is a high degree of likelihood that once we possess numerical superiority, most of General Branko’s senior officers will seek to defect.”
“Not surprising,” observed General Marwan. “Branko is a brute who commands by fear. If his officers are not afraid of him, they will find excuses to slip from his grasp.”
“Indeed.” Cornelius nodded. “It is at that point that we will move to our third stage: the endgame. We believe that if we remove Branko, the attempted takeover will collapse completely, leaving Rachel Gentry alone and exposed. We have measures in place for Gentry’s removal, but for security reasons, there will be no further elaboration.” He glanced at Madeline, who dipped her chin slightly.
“Cornelius, if I may?” asked General Marwan. The slender man sat down, and the PDF commander stood up. “PDF officers, you will note that this plan—which I support—does not have a combat role for any of you; at least, not unless things go wrong. That is because we want to realize our objectives with a minimum of casualties. Many of the people you would fight today could be people you have to work with tomorrow. We don’t want a full-out civil war that takes years to heal.”
There were murmurs and nods of agreement from the officers at the briefing.
“Instead,” continued the general, “we get to experience a rare treat. We get to sit and watch for once, while someone else fucks up our enemy’s shit.” She smiled wolfishly. “I, for one, am looking forward to what Enoch Immanuel’s Onin troops can do.”
General Marwan sat down to a scattering of applause and appreciative laughter. Madeline stood up and addressed the room.
“The Onin infiltrators have been given twelve hours to prepare their sabotage operations,” she said. “Go time will be 0900 hours Global Standard Time tomorrow. That will signal the beginning of stage one. Go get some rest, everyone. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
After the command staff filed out of the room, Madeline, Enoch, Kait, Aurelian, Cornelius, and General Marwan remained.
“You’d better be right about this,” growled General Marwan. “It runs against my nature—and my judgment—to surveil my own officers.”
“Heba, I understand completely,” agreed Madeline with sympathy. “The risks of betrayal are just too large.”
“This is not an honorable fight, if such a thing even exists,” observed Enoch. His lip curled. “Trust is a rare commodity at the best of times. And these are not the best of times.”
The general looked at him for a moment. “I’m glad I don’t have to live in your head,” she stated flatly. Enoch shrugged.
Aurelian was ignoring all of the commentary passing back and forth, keeping his eyes on a handheld device with a tiny screen. For a moment, it flashed green.
“There it is,” he said. “Microburst transmission. If we hadn’t been watching for it specifically, we never would have caught it. We have a spy,” Aurelian observed grimly.
“Dammit!” General Marwan swore. “Do we have an ID?”
“Officer’s quarters,” replied Aurelian. “Can’t pin it down any further than that.”
“Give me a secure room, and assemble the officers there in fifteen minutes,” ordered Enoch.
Marwan glanced at Madeline then asked, “What exactly are you intending to do?”
“You can watch,” said Enoch, “as long as all of you promise not to interfere.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, seven officers stood in a line, staring dubiously at Enoch, who sat behind a table.
A colonel, the same one who had challenged Enoch’s right to be on the command council, opted for belligerence. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, ordering us out of our quarters?” he demanded. “None of us here recognize your authority!”
