Free Commander by Phil Geusz Page A

the fencibles, Heinrich’s purchasing mission proved more successful. This one had ordered eighteen brand-new ships, of which a round dozen were mining-support craft and thus near-clones of Richard . We accepted every last one of these latter into the fencibles even before their keels were laid down. These would be the first of the shared-duty ships that would constitute the bulk of our fleet, as we could only justify a single full-time flagship. The House of Marcus bent over backwards cooperating with us on these, up to and including letting us help select their officers and crews long before the ships were delivered. Soon Sergeant Piper was out bellowing and screaming on the parade-ground again, while a mixed platoon of humans and Rabbits stared in slackjawed awe at his mastery of the art of profanity. The plan was for each crew to receive their ship while still in uniform and on active duty, under the orders of her merchant-marine skipper. Then they’d go through a naval-type shakedown until everyone and everything was in full fighting trim. After she passed her final test we’d put her guns in storage and let her serve in her civilian role for two years or so. At that time we’d retrain and requalify everyone all over again. It was the best balance between military necessity and civilian economic need I’d been able to come up with, though because it was based entirely on seat-of-the-pants judgment rather than any kind of actual experience I fully expected to have to make changes in the future. But we had to start somewhere .
     
    Heinrich also brought back some bad news. “The Imperials are astir,” were the first words out of his mouth when I greeted him upon his return. “They’ve laid down a battlecruiser of their own, sir—maybe she’s even a match for Javelin . And they’re demanding the same trade concessions they just relinquished.” This was hardly unexpected news—our triumph in the last conflict was very much akin to my victory at chess during the war games of so long ago. Yes, I’d beaten my opponent. But by any reasonable measure he remained a far more competent player than I’d ever be, and the ploy I’d used against him would work only once. In any rematch, he’d be far more likely to defeat me than I him. The Imperial forces and even the base Imperial economy were designed to fight a series of short, sharp wars, consuming the Kingdom in small, easy-to-swallow bites. We’d disrupted them this last time not by outfighting them, but rather by jamming up their internal traffic flow so badly that it was impossible for them to prosecute a successful war until the mess was resolved. Well, it was resolved now, though they’d been forced to sue for peace in order to make it happen. And even though we’d taken and swallowed a small bite of their territory for once, the core Imperial forces were still practically undamaged and ready to try again. Near as anyone could tell, their leadership was ready as well. Readier than ever, in fact, after being humiliated. So, in the minds of most of us Royal officers, at least, it wasn’t a matter of if there’d be another war, but when.
     
    “I see,” I replied with a smile. “Well, we’ll just have to be ready for them then, won’t we?”
     
    “We will be, sir,” he answered. “Or at least here we’ll be ready. The fencibles, I mean. And the rest of the House of Marcus, for that matter. I’m truly impressed with how much our friend James is accomplishing. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he ordered two hundred atmospheric-defense fighters. That’s as many as any five other worlds!”
     
    I nodded, scowling at the memory of how the last remnants of the Marcus fighter squadrons had sacrificed themselves to cover the launch of Broad Arrow so long ago.
     
    Apparently James hadn’t forgotten either; our fliers had been hopelessly outnumbered, and he clearly didn’t intend to allow that to happen again. The purse-strings had been similarly