Beyond the Gates of Antares by Barber Mark;

Author:Barber, Mark;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Winged Hussar Publishing, LLC
Published: 2018-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

17th Assault Force Force HQ

New Wryland

Markov’s Prize

L-Day plus 54

The city hall building was, in Owenne’s opinion, the perfect place for a C3 Headquarters. Now that the Concord had taken over, there was no need for politicians and bureaucrats, so the building was obsolete. The structure would be a waste if not employed in a fitting role, and acting as one of the Assault Force HQs was just such a role. He floated absentmindedly along the broad corridor on the second floor, his booted feet skimming the thick, crimson carpet. Paintings hung on the wood paneled walls to either side of him; depictions of famous historical events from the city and even the very square outside the building where apparently a famous coup was staged a few centuries before. Owenne normally found himself abhorring a lack of technology, but the archaic building with its cavernous hallways, marble pillars, sculptures, and intricate wooden furniture was somehow pleasing to him.

Owenne floated swiftly into the building’s main conference room, another traditionally designed area with vast, wooden tables whose smooth surfaces were illuminated by sunlight which poured in through a long line of tall windows that ran along the front of the entire building. Some fifty military officers were assembled in the spacious room, grouped together in pairs, trios, circles of six, all of the little social habits which panhumans adopted and still confused Owenne. At the top of the tree were two commander-in-chiefs – Hawess and Deitte – who commanded the 12th and 17th Assault Forces respectively. Each assault force was made up of three formations, led by a strike commander. Each of those strike commanders had six companies, led by a strike captain. So whilst on the battlefield the strike captain was king, here in the upper echelons of planning and management, the captain was merely another pawn, a low ranking officer whose job was to implement strategy, not to devise it. The participants were dressed in a bewildering array of colourful uniforms upon which almost all wore merit ribbons, campaign badges, and bright citizenship pins.

Today’s selection from the utterly bewildering array of attires open to Concord military personnel was the Number 3 Uniform; smart trousers and a shirt and tie, with a single breasted jacket, all in pale green. Medal ribbons and qualification badges were arranged neatly over the left breast pocket. Owenne’s eyes were drawn to Drop Captain Mosse, something of a local celebrity due to her rather aggressive antics behind Ghar lines with various surprise attacks. To add to the confusion, the military insisted on keeping alive with their different uniforms for different occasions, thus Mosse wore a thin skirt instead of trousers. Owenne found it completely unfathomable that different regulations existed for men and women regarding haircuts, let alone a woman’s right to wear a skirt if she chose. In Owenne’s mind, it should just be short back and sides and trousers all round. And one uniform. Cut down on the ceremony, the confusion, and the unnecessary logistical burden.

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