Part II

MAF Command Headquarters

Dunianshire

Magistracy of Canopus

March 11th, 2588

Magistrix Floral Centrella seated herself at the head of the conference table, taking a moment to look over the various faces and uniforms of the Magistracy Armed Forces senior command officers that had already found their respective seats. She smiled warmly in their direction, "Thank you all for meeting me so early this morning. Everyone has been burning the late night oil recently, I know, and I appreciate all of your efforts; however, there is still work to be done, especially concerning the coming assault on Dunianshire. That is why I have called you here today."

The officers shifted forward in their seats, giving the Magistrix their full attention.

She folded her hands on the table, pausing a moment before posing her question. "Have any of you heard of the battle of Thermopylae?"

Admiral Carr spoke up hesitantly, "I believe it was a battle on ancient Terra, but beyond that I'm not quite sure."

Floral smiled, "Well Admiral, you're right about that. I couldn't recall much more about it off the top of my head either, but I did some research last night. You see, back in the 5th century B.C., the Greeks on ancient Terra were being invaded by the Persian Empire. Thirty of the Greek city-states met in Corinth to decide how best to approach the crisis. They couldn't gather a large enough army in time to face the massive Persian military, so instead they chose to send a smaller force north in a holding action to give them time to prepare the rest of their troops.

"King Leonidas of Sparta led the Greek army of ten thousand men north to face the Persian force of over two hundred thousand soldiers. Leonidas carefully selected the site for the coming battle, knowing that King Xerxes of Persia thought he could overwhelm the Greeks with his vast numerical superiority. After some deliberation, Leonidas chose a mountainous northern pass called Thermopylae. There had once been a stockade and small fort constructed on the site, and he directed his army to reconstruct those defenses, leaving only a small gap in the pass open.

"When the Persians finally attacked, the Greeks were able to hold against the formidable army because the Persians could only position a small portion of their forces in direct contact with the Greeks, eliminating their numerical advantage. For days on end, the Persians threw wave after wave of soldiers at the Greeks, but still their lines held firm."

Colonel Elisa Vasquez raised her hand, "Excuse me Magistrix."

Floral paused, looking over to her, "Yes?"

"This little history lesson is fascinating and all, but what does it have to do with the situation at hand?"

Floral nodded, "A fair question, Colonel. Allow me to explain."

She tapped out a few commands into the keypad on the armrest of her chair, and the table's integral holoprojection unit winked into life. A topographic map sprang up over the table, various shades of green and brown coloring the different elevations of the terrain. A red square highlighted a large portion of the mountainous region in the center of the map.

"Now," she said, tapping out a couple more commands, "General Zhukov's forces should be landing here on the Ilian Plains to set up their staging area." Several red chevrons appeared in the designated area to the west of the highlighted square. "Their main objective will most likely be the spaceport, where the bulk of our forces are concentrated." To the east, one large blue chevron popped up, surrounded by several smaller ones.

The map zoomed in on the highlighted area, providing a more in-depth view of the terrain. "This is the Carson Valley, a portion of the Highlands between us and the projected landing zone. As you all may or may not know, Carson Valley is the only pass through the highlands at this point large enough to accommodate heavy ground assets. If we can lure Zhukov's forces into position here, I believe we can effectively reduce his numerical advantage much like the Greeks did at Thermopylae." She gestured to Admiral Carr, "Granted, we would need what's left of the 2nd fleet to harass their dropships and aerospace assets so that they can't lift off and cover Zhukov on the ground, but I believe we could severely bloody the SLDF forces."

Murmurs went up around the table, several officers nodding their approval.

Colonel Buquoy cleared his throat above the din, prompting everyone to silence. He folded his hands on the table, "I believe the Magistrix has overlooked one fundamental flaw with her plan."

Floral raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Oh? Then by all means, please elaborate."

"How do you propose to get Zhukov into position? The man is not stupid. I doubt he would willingly march his forces into a situation where we could eliminate their numerical advantage. If he refuses to advance through the pass or takes an alternate route, what are we going to do then?"

Floral shook her head, "I appreciate the concern, but I don't think that is going to happen. Colonel Buquoy, you yourself said that Zhukov is a bull. He'd rather rush straight into the fight and pound us into dust than take the time to maneuver around the conflict. If we provide him with a large force to concentrate on, I don't think he'll take terrain into account. He'll simply meet us head on."

Buquoy nodded, though he didn't seem to agree with the assessment.

"Now, does anyone else have any other objections?" she asked, looking the table.

No other voices rose in protest.

Floral slowly surveyed the gathered officers. They were exhausted and weary, trampled and downtrodden, and more than a little desperate, but their eyes belied a stalwart determination tempered by the fires in their souls. They were set behind her cause—set behind their cause, and they were ready to see the struggle through to the end. She couldn't ask for a better group of men and women to fight by her side.

Floral allowed herself a grim smile, "Good then. We have a lot of work to do. Call up what forces you have at your disposal and ready your logistics networks. I'll be in touch with all of you later to determine what further steps need to be taken. Until that time, you're all dismissed."

The officers stood and began filing out.

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The Magistrix left something out. Colonel Buquoy hadn't said anything in the briefing because he didn't want to tip his hand, but he knew more about Thermopylae than he had let on. What she said was true, that was certain, but that was only half of the story.

When Xerxes realized he couldn't fight his way past the Greek force defending the pass, he sought an alternative way around. With the help of a disenchanted Greek farmer, elements of the Persian army threaded their way through the mountains and began to mass at the Greek rear. When King Leonidas learned that they had been surrounded, he ordered the bulk of his forces to retreat further south. He and three hundred loyal hoplites stayed behind to hold the line as Persians closed from both north and south.

The stalwart Spartans flew into combat with abandon, but they were fighting a losing battle. After hours of fierce fighting, King Leonidas was finally killed. His men fought their way to his body, retrieving their slain monarch and carrying him back to their fortified position. Xerxes demanded their surrender, but none of the fierce warriors would capitulate.

In turn, they died to the man.

Buquoy sighed, leaning forward on his desk. If the old adage was true, this didn't bode well for the coming battle. But then again, history didn't repeat itself. People repeated history. Just like Leonidas of Ancient Greece, Floral Centrella was leading her army into a battle they couldn't hope to win.

She had to know the war was over. Most of the other senior officers had come to that conclusion as well, but they wouldn't say as much to the Magistrix. Any rational being could tell that there was no point in fighting anymore. The only thing that would come out of continued conflict was more blood, except this time it would be on their hands, not Cameron's. Floral Centrella was stubbornly clinging to the hope that she might somehow be able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. She was a fool—a noble fool, but a fool none-the-less.

He would have to try to convince her to give up the plan before more of their people died. Somehow, though, he knew she wouldn't listen. He knew she would pursue her own death to the end, taking with her what was left of the MAF. And what's more, the rest of the command staff was content to stand aside and let her do it. He couldn't allow that—couldn't forgive himself if he just sat by and did nothing. But what was he going to do? Was he even prepared to do what had to be done?

The Colonel rubbed his eyes wearily, wishing there was an easier solution. But there wasn't one. He would just have to speak with the Magistrix, hope that his words would finally sink in. And if not, he would have to decide which outcome his conscience could bear: the deaths of his soldiers, or the death of his liege.