45. Pyrrhus and Achilles

Academy Hill, Vidako

Imperium Stellarum

November 5, 2847

With less than two months until winter break, Arc could hardly make himself sit through his classes. In the front row of the lecture hall, while Professor DeVault flicked through his last few projections of the day, Arc couldn’t keep his right leg from bouncing up and down in a display of sheer nerves.

It wasn’t that the course was anything but fascinating. Under any kind of normal circumstance, he would have been riveted by the man’s insights into interstellar war. In fact, before he’d gone on his first patrol with Vijay Iyer, War and its Theorists had easily been his favorite course. But with a hard deadline to be ready for his duel against Fletcher Radecki, every moment that he didn’t spend getting ready in one way or another felt wasted.

“At its core, warfare in space would seem to be a case in which all engagements are, essentially, voluntary,” DeVault lectured. Arc realized that he hadn’t heard anything the professor had said for the last ten minutes or more, and resolved to fix his attention on the older man’s words until the class let out. “After all, space is so vast that it is a trivial matter for one fleet to avoid another.”

Cal Madine raised his hand, and Devault nodded permission for the cadet to speak. “That doesn’t take into account fixed points which have to be held, sir,” he objected. “If a fleet comes out of the gate and attacks Vidako, we have to fight them.”

“Do we?” DeVault asked.

Arc hesitated a moment, and then raised his hand. “If we’re on the planet, yes, we do,” he said. “But if we were up in the Honor, we could leave before the enemy force ever reached orbit. We might not be able to get to the gate if they protected it, but we could avoid them as long as we were willing to skulk around the edges of the system, or until we ran out of fuel or food.”

“Precisely,” DeVault confirmed, with a smile. “In the hours it would take an enemy force to burn from the gate to Vidako, any defending force of ships could leave. That doesn’t help our ground troops, of course, nor the civilian population, but such an engagement is still voluntary.”

“That’s insane,” Sloane Emonstone-Granville broke in, without bothering to raise her hand. “You’d actually argue for leaving everyone on this world to be conquered? Or worse—if something like the Swarm came, killed?”

While the imperial fleet had confirmed Admiral Wai’s arrival in the Ha’veth system, and every major media outlet had covered their departure, Arc hadn’t heard any news about whether his carrier group had actually won, or not. The longer the silence stretched out, the more it became a topic of conversation—especially, he understood, among the upperclassmen. Arc was hoping that, when he and Cassie visited Duke Montalban and his family again over the winter break, they might be able to learn more.

“Am I arguing for such a course of action?” DeVault asked. “No. Merely pointing out the inherent contradictions in the assumptions that most of you have been making until now. It is not incumbent upon us to defend a planet, strategically, unless there is more to be gained by such a defense than by ceding the territory. In fact, there is only one way in which a naval force may be brought to battle, consistently, without their consent. Cadet Sandhurst touched upon this in his last answer.”

“You’re talking about the gates,” Cal said. “You can plant a force right at a system’s gate and ambush anything that comes through.” Whatever else he was, at least Cal wasn’t stupid.

“Precisely.” DeVault nodded. “The fact that the imperium’s faster-than-light travel is constrained by fixed points in each system means that those gates are, essentially, choke points. A defending force, if they are prepared to risk damage to the gate, can hold that point, and thereby the system, against any incoming aggressor, so long as they are willing to fight at a gate.”

“Unless you use Torean warp technology,” Arc pointed out. “Which no one really does anymore.”

“Again, that is an assumption,” DeVault cautioned him. “The Black Raptor Fleet never gave up their warp drives when they refused to join the imperium, and if any of you have the slightest idea where they are now, I’m certain fleet intelligence would reward you handsomely for the information.”

A wave of chuckles spread through the students in their seats, and even Arc couldn’t help but smile. No one had seen nor heard of the fourth Torean ark-fleet in a hundred and forty-five years, and a lot of people speculated that they’d all died somewhere off in the black.

“But even putting the Harriers of Toree aside,” DeVault continued, “we have no indication that the Na’xir swarm makes use of gates. The Singularity still cannot, so far as we are aware, manufacture their own. It would be foolish to assume they haven’t delved back into warp engine development. By my count, no less than three potential enemies are, in the worst case scenario, capable of warping into any of our systems to make a surprise assault, and then holding our own choke points against a relief force.”

A soft chime rang throughout the room.

“That is, it appears, our class for the day,” DeVault announced. “For a point of view on how warp drives alter strategic consideration, please read the selection from Kaimana. I think you’ll find his account of the twenty-sixth century Torean raid on Alu to be of particular interest. Cadet Sandhurst, remain behind a moment, please.”

Arc had already stood up in his seat, but the professor’s words brought him to a halt, and he shuffled his feet, watching the other cadets leave, before finally approaching the front of the room. Did we miss an assignment, while we were out in the jungle? he asked Iceni.

Not unless my records are inaccurate, his AI responded.

DeVault simply watched him approach, remaining silent for a long moment. Eventually, unable to bear it any further, Arc broke. “You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked.

“I think, cadet, that you should have taken my offer to write you a recommendation,” DeVault said. “If you’d gone to the fleet academy on Luna, you would not be upon the verge of risking your life in a foolish duel. I thought you were smarter than this.”

Arc could feel his face burning red hot. “He took me by surprise, sir,” he said. “Outmaneuvered me. It won’t happen again.”

“Did you not listen to a single thing I was saying this class?” DeVault demanded, with a frown. The combination of his height and the deep tone of his voice made for an imposing combination, and the effect was only heightened when he was angry. “You are choosing to accept this engagement, Sandhurst. Why are you making that choice, when you don’t have to?”

“I did the best I could,” Arc argued. “I can choose the ground, and I’m –”

DeVault made a sharp cut of his hand. “Your enemy has the advantage of superior training and field experience,” he said. “One. Two, he has the advantage in equipment. The Tyro is a training mech, not a front line machine. You will be going up against a Kestrel. Three, he has the advantage of range. Four, maneuverability. What advantage do you have, Sandhurst? I’m trying to think of one. Has it simply not occurred to me, or are you, in fact, thoroughly outclassed?”

“I have until May to train,” Arc pointed out.

“So does he. Perhaps you will gain more benefit of the time, relative to him,” DeVault conceded. “But you can hardly expect to close the gap in skill completely.”

“Knowing his machine means I can target its vulnerabilities,” Arc argued, not yet prepared to back down.

“As he will target yours, though I admit the Tyro is a more well rounded, robust chassis,” DeVault said. “All you are doing is attempting to lessen the advantages he already holds so that they are not quite so egregious. That isn’t a winning strategy, son.”

“You want me to back down,” Arc said, and shook his head. “First of all, I don’t think he’d play along.”

“We have just over six months to pressure him into accepting,” DeVault said. “I do not appreciate seeing upperclassmen attempting to bully my students, and there are plenty of other professors who agree with me. Give us time to work.”

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Arc sighed. “Is that what Alexander would do?” he asked.

“Alexander?” DeVault frowned.

“After my first class,” Arc explained, “you quoted Napoleon at me. That Alexander was in the first rank of generals not just because of his strategy, or his logistics, but because he ‘carried out audaciously.’ You told me that if I wanted to lead a wing, I needed to earn the confidence of my soldiers. That I needed to be able to inspire brave action –”

“On the field,” DeVault objected. “Not in some meaningless duel.”

“But it does have meaning, sir,” Arc protested. “He’s doing this to get back at me and Cassie, because she rejected him. What does it say if we let him get away with it? What does it say about her, and about me? Do you want me to be the lieutenant who ran away from a duel?”

“Is it not better to withdraw and preserve your force for later action, than to lose it entirely?” DeVault argued. “Would you rather be a Washington, cadet, or a Pyrrhus of Epirus?”

“In this particular case, I’d rather be Achilles,” Arc joked. “But I’ll settle for surviving. I’ll settle for a draw.”