Orphan's Alliance (Jason Wander) by Robert Buettner

orphan.”
    “The Army’s my family. Can you get me a division?”
    Parker snorted. “Dream on. Every two-star in the Army wants his own division.”
    “Every two-star in the Army didn’t bunk with you, Druwan.”
    Parker sighed, leaned back in his chair, then swiveled it and squinted into his back screen. “Jason, if you wanted your own division, you should’ve got your ticket punched right. You’ve ridden dinosaurs. But you’ve never overseen a staff preparing for an annual three six-three dash five.”
    “What’s a three six-three dash five?”
    “I rest my case. Compare that to Stump Peavey. He angled for the right jobs. He got commanders to write him fat OERs, for ten years. All so he could get the Third Infantry Division at Fort Stewart, when that slot opens up next month. Last posting before he retires down there, close to home.”
    “Stump’s earned it. He’s a good officer.”
    “Was. He had a mild stroke two days ago. This morning he elected early retirement. Nobody knows it yet, but Third I.D.’s unexpectedly looking for a two-star to command it.”
    I rocked back and frowned. Stump, like every other general in my class at the War College, was old enough to be my uncle. His wife sent me cookies every Christmas, like a favorite aunt, and I sent them a fifth of Jack Daniel’s. “I didn’t know. How is he?”
    “Hund Ssiz Jared percent recovery projected. But somebody’s gonna have to fill that slot right away.”
    I stared into my hands. Waiting wouldn’t help Stump. “So I’m first on the list to request it.”
    “You know it isn’t that simple.”
    “Do what you can.”
    Parker nodded, then screwed up his face as he punched in data. “Family matters, huh?”
    “It does.”
    Fifty minutes later, I sat down across a Pentagon desk from my boss. Behind him on standards hung the streamered colors of the units he had commanded, and the place smelled of coffee and old leather. Lieutenant General Nathan M. Cobb had been my boss off and on since I was a Specialist Fourth Class and he commanded the Ganymede Expeditionary Force.
    He said, “You look good, Jason.” He always told visitors they looked good, to put them at ease. Even the ones like me who already knew he could see better with Virtulenses than naturally sighted people with glasses. Then he adjusted the humming Virtulenses on his spare cheekbones. He waved at his desk reader. “Got your report this morning.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Tell me more about this General Planck.”
    “His troops love him. Tactically and strategically brilliant. Even the Iridians respect him.”
    Nat Cobb nodded, waved his hand. “You’ll get to elaborate later.”
    “Sir? I can go into detail now if—”
    “Jason, why do you want to command the Third Infantry Division?”
    I rocked back in my chair. “Sir? How did you—”
    He waved a hand as thin as a rooster claw. “A blind man survives in Washington by seeing more than other people. Well?”
    “I dunno.” That didn’t sound like the response of a leader who deserved to command ten thousand soldiers and a military reservation as big as Liechtenstein. “My career portfolio has to be broadened to maximize my value to the Army. And—”
    General Cobb covered his ears with his palms. “Save the moose shit. Jason, commanding a Division in garrison is mostly lunch speeches to the local Lions Club. And persuading troops that a five-percent increase in mechanized equipment upchecks is important.”
    “Those things are important!”
    “Knowing things are important doesn’t make an officer good at doing them. Commanders like Stump Peavey actually find assignments like that fun. Tell me you do and you’re a liar.”
    I stared down at the floor. “If I wanted fun, I wouldn’t have stayed in the infantry. I commanded a half million troops and saved a planet. But I can’t handle the Lions Club?”
    “Jason, when things go wrong, there’s no soldier I’ve ever commanded Svert="that I trust more