The Coalition colonel stood. “Sir, you have put up a splendid defense. Your troops fought valiantly. We wish to end this slaughter. Please consider General Lyons’s terms, General. There would be no dishonor in your surrender.”
“Thank you. I have to discuss this with my officers.”
“These terms are very generous,” Brigadier Sorca admitted after he’d scanned the paper. “I think the terms will be observed with punctiliousness. And my men don’t have much fight left in them, sir.”
General Cazombi could have disagreed with that statement but he chose to say nothing. “Gentlemen?” he looked at the small group of senior officers standing in around him. “A show of hands? Those in favor of surrender, raise a hand.” All but one officer—a colonel who’d commanded a brigade, now decimated—raised their hands. “It looks almost unanimous, gentlemen. Colonel, why do you disagree?”
The colonel stepped forward. He was a big, red-faced man and his hands were swathed in bandages. “Because, General, when I swore my oath as an officer, I swore never to surrender my men so long as I had the means to resist. We still have those means, sir, thanks to your foresight,” he glanced at Sorca, who shot him a killing look. “To surrender now would dishonor the men who served under me and who sacrificed their lives obedient to orders.”
The room had gone silent except for the subdued crackling of the communications systems as outposts reported in. Work had stopped momentarily because everyone in the bunker knew what was going on and they all watched the small knot of officers intently.
“Good point, Colonel. Anybody have anything to add?” Nobody spoke up. Brigadier General Sorca glared at the colonel and the other officers stared at the floor. “All right, gentlemen, we fight on.” He held up a hand to forestall any further argument. “Yesterday I dispatched a Doomsday drone outlining our situation and requesting immediate reinforcement. We shall hold out in the hope that reinforcements arrive.”
“You what—” Sorca blurted. “You—you made up your mind before we had this conference?”
“I just made up my mind, General, now that I’ve seen Lyons’s terms. Now that we’ve discussed them I reject them.”
“But it’ll take three weeks before the drone reaches Earth!” Sorca exclaimed. “And who knows how long after that until a relief force can be dispatched much less get here to do us any good! Goddamnit, General, we cannot possibly hold out that long!”
“Three weeks less one day, General,” Cazombi replied calmly. “Gentlemen, return to your commands and duties. When and if surrender becomes imminent, we shall dispatch a second drone. Until that becomes our only alternative, I want no more talk of surrender.”
He turned and retired behind the curtain that divided his small sleeping cubicle from the rest of the command post. He sighed and sat at his field desk and took a folded piece of paper out of a pocket. He had written a difficult message on it during the night. It was intended for the second drone, if one was ever sent. “Madam President,” it began, “it is with head bowed in sorrow but not in shame that I have the sad duty to inform your Excellency that today,” the date and time were left blank, “I have arranged for the surrender of the remaining Confederation forces at Fort Seymour on Ravenette . . .” He had not gotten any further. He had wanted to add something about the valor of his troops and commend them for the fight they’d put up, but he felt superstitious about doing that while they still had a chance. He could write something flowery and deathless when the time came. And if he wasn’t around to write it, well, somebody else would have the chance to go down in history. He folded the paper and put it back into his pocket.
Now, for the second time in a long while, Major General Alistair Cazombi let his real feelings show as he stepped back out into the command post. “All right, people!” he shouted, turning every head in the bunker, “get back to work, goddamnit! We aren’t dead yet! These bastards have started a war on us, and as long as I’m in command, we’re going to fight them and we’re going to win!”
Everyone stood and cheered.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
Madam Chang-Sturdevant’s hand dangled loosely at her side; her face, drawn and white, showed clearly the lines of worry etched there. “This means war,” she muttered wearily. “War,” she repeated.
“We have no other response,” Marcus Berentus said bitterly. “This is what they’ve wanted all along. They have forced this on us.”
Chang-Sturdevant cast her eyes back on the screen where the message from General Cazombi glared back at her. She read it again.
MADAM PRESIDENT. I HAVE THE DUTY TO REPORT TO YOU THAT AT 0631 HOURS LOCAL TIME THE FORCES OF RAVENETTE, REINFORCED BY MILITARY UNITS CONTRIBUTED BY THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE SO-CALLED SECESSIONIST COALITION, LAUNCHED A CONCERTED AND UNPROVOKED ATTACK ON FORT SEYMOUR. OUR INITIAL CASUALTIES HAVE BEEN HEAVY BUT WE ARE HOLDING A REINFORCED POSITION THAT THE ENEMY, DESPITE BRINGING HEAVY FORCES AGAINST US, HAS NOT YET BEEN ABLE TO PENETRATE.
THIS ATTACK CONSTITUTES AN AGGRESSIVE AND UNPROVOKED ACT OF WAR AGAINST THE CONFEDERATION OF HUMAN WORLDS.
THE STATUS OF OUR DEFENDING FORCE IS INCLUDED AS AN ATTACHMENT TO THIS MESSAGE ALONG WITH OUR ESTIMATE OF THE ENEMY’S STRENGTH AND CAPABILITIES AND HIS ORDER OF BATTLE. WE ARE COMPLETELY SURROUNDED IN OUR POSITION AND THERE IS NO HOPE OF A BREAKOUT OF ANY KIND.
WE HAVE BEEN OUT OF CONTACT WITH THE CONFEDERATION CONSULATE ON RAVENETTE AS WELL AS THE NAVAL BASE ON CHILIANWALA AND MUST ASSUME THEY ARE BOTH TAKEN AND OUR PERSONNEL THERE INTERNED BY THE ENEMY. THEREFORE, AS THE SENIOR CONFEDERATION REPRESENTATIVE IN THIS QUADRANT OF HUMAN SPACE, AS WELL AS THE RANKING MILITARY OFFICER PRESENT, I HAVE TAKEN CHARGE OF THE FORCES STILL INTACT AT FORT SEYMOUR. IT IS MY INTENTION TO HOLD THIS POSITION UNTIL REINFORCED. I ESTIMATE THAT AT OUR PRESENT LEVEL OF COMBAT WE MAY SUCCEED IN HOLDING THIS PLACE FROM SIX TO EIGHT WEEKS. YOU WILL NOTE BY THE ATTACHMENT THAT WE ARE VASTLY OUTNUMBERED IN MEN, WEAPONS, AND MATERIEL, BUT NEVER IN FIGHTING SPIRIT, COURAGE, AND SACRIFICE IN OUR SWORN DUTY TO RESIST THIS NAKED AGGRESSION.
I RESPECTFULLY REQUEST IMMEDIATE REINFORCEMENT.
GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS,
CAZOMBI, MG
“This was sent three weeks ago?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So we don’t even know if General Cazombi and his men are still holding out or are prisoners by now, do we?”
“No, but General Cazombi has quite a reputation as a fighter. He meant what he said in that message. We have no choice, barring another message announcing his surrender, except to send a relief force. And if Cazombi is forced to surrender, well, either we send a field army or two and a fleet to back it up, or we negotiate.”
“ ‘God bless our troops,’ ” Chang-Sturdevant repeated. “At least this officer knows who really counts in our armed forces. Marcus, where do we get the troops and the vessels to send a force large enough to help these poor, brave—” her voice caught and she shook her head silently, sadly. “Well, dammit, Marcus, we are not going to negotiate with these people! I tried—we tried—every way we could to work out our differences, offered them every concession they asked for, and now this?” She gestured angrily at the message on her screen. “They didn’t even have the courtesy to let us know in advance that they would attack. A sneak attack!” The color rushed back into her face. “Well, they’re sure as hell going to know when we responded to this—this outrage!”
“The Combined Chiefs are on their way here now.”
“Good! I want that Marine, Aguinaldo, in on this, Marcus, I want him here more than anybody else.” Chang-Sturdevant sighed. “I shall summon the rest of my cabinet and we shall agree on how to respond. Then I’ll go before the Congress and read them General Cazombi’s message. I’ll inform them that I’m going to issue an Executive Order authorizing the deployment of troops to Ravenette to respond to a threat to the Confederation. I have that authority as President under the War Powers Section of our Constitution. Our Congress is like all democratic deliberative bodies,
Marcus; its members divided in their opinions, overly cautious, and slow to act. I’ll get the votes for a war resolution, but not right now, not even with this,” she gestured at Cazombi’s message. “They’ve been in session debating our response since the Ordinance of Secession was issued. This should change everything but it’ll take time. We can have only one response now.
“Now, Marcus, would you leave me alone for a while? When everyone gets here we’ll meet in the secure conference room. My aides will let me know when you’re ready.” Berentus nodded and walked to the door. “Marcus? One more thing? Thanks for sticking by me. Stay close by until this is over, would you?”
“Good heavens, Admiral, it’ll take that long to raise an effective force to relieve those poor devils?” Attorney General Huygens Long exclaimed.
“I’m afraid so, AG,” Admiral Porter answered, glancing apologetically at the President. The other members of the Combined Chiefs nodded their assent. “We have to assume that once our force gets there they’ll need to engage the enemy’s fleet before a landing can be attempted and as the CIO has just informed us,” he nodded at Clements Barksdale, the newly appointed Director of the Central Intelligence Organization, “and our own analysts agree, the secessionists’ combined naval strength is potent. We’ll also need time to organize the ground forces necessary to obtain a foothold on Ravenette if Fort Seymour is taken by the time they get there or to relieve the garrison if they’ve managed to hold out that long. That is the best we can do.”
“So it is agreed. I will go before the Congress in a few moments and announce the attack on Fort Seymour. I shall not ask for a formal declaration of war, gentlemen, because I won’t get it and I’m not going to show these people how divided we are. But I can order full mobilization of each member world’s reserve forces. Admiral, the Chiefs shall coordinate the integration of those forces into our regular components and work out the deployment schedule. All this will be done with the greatest possible speed. Send a drone to General Cazombi, let him know we’re coming, no details, of course, in case it falls into enemy hands. But we owe him and his troops that much. Admiral, you may proceed to the Congress now and meet me there in fifteen minutes. I want everyone else to go back to their offices and evaluate the impact this war will have upon our government’s operations. We’ll all meet here again, in full cabinet session, tomorrow morning. General Aguinaldo, Marcus, come with me for a moment.”
The Minister of War and Marine Commandant followed Chang-Sturdevant into her private office. “General, this Cazombi, tell me what you know about him. I know he was the ranking officer at Fort Seymour but he was not responsible for the installation’s defense? How did that come about? And Marcus says he had some dealings with your Marines.”
“Yes, ma’am, it was over the Avionia affair. One of my officers, the company commander who was actually present at Avionia Station, was sued by the chief scientist there for making a decision that countermanded her orders about the treatment of captive Avionians. She later sued him personally. General Cazombi, who was also there at the time, appeared as a witness in his defense. The chief scientist died before the trial had proceeded very far and the whole thing was dropped. General Cazombi was the Director of Personnel for the Chiefs and I knew him as an honorable man and a courageous officer.
“I might also say, since he expressed this opinion to me, that he was very upset with the Chairman for not doing everything he could to squelch that trial, which we all believed was frivolous to begin with. Ma’am, may I add something? I think if anybody can hold out at Fort Seymour, it’s Alistair Cazombi.”
Chang-Sturdevant smiled. “Thank you, General. Now, Marcus, shall we?” She held out her arm, which Berentus took, and they left the room. “Marcus, I am afraid,” she whispered.
“Don’t be! We’ll win.”
“I know that. That’s not what scares me. Oh, I’m sad about all our people who’ll die in this war, the secessionists are our people too. But I’m afraid of the real threat that’s out there somewhere, Marcus. It was a mistake, our keeping its presence a secret, I see that now.”
“If they come back we’ll deal with them just like we did on Kingdom.”
She squeezed Marcus’s hand. “Thanks, thanks very much. Okay. Now, we step into the arena and deal with the real threat to this Confederation!” Marcus did not know if she meant the Coalition or the Confederation Congress.
Representative Haggl Kutmoi, from Bulon, a portly gentleman known for his long-winded speeches and sarcasm, read from the Ordinance of Secession: ” ‘Whereas, in addition to the well-founded causes of complaint set forth by this Convention, in resolutions adopted against the party now in power on Earth, headed by Cynthia Chang-Sturdevant, who has, through the use of unwarranted military force slaughtered innocent citizens of Ravenette, we therefore resolve no longer to submit to such rule or remain in the Confederation of Human Worlds, which would be disgraceful and ruinous to the interests of the worlds whose representatives to this Convention have thus signed this Ordinance. Therefore, we do hereby declare and ordain that we resume to ourselves all rights and powers heretofore delegated to the government of the Confederation of Human Worlds . . .’ and on and on honorable members, balderdash ad infinitum.”
Representative Kutmoi drew himself up to his full shortness and glared at his fellows, most of whom were dozing at their places. For several days the Congress had been debating the Confederation’s response to the Ordinance, and tempers were growing short. Given the late hour, they would all have been home in bed except that the President had asked them to remain in session for a little while longer, to hear an announcement. Suddenly there was a stirring at the rear of the chamber. All heads turned as Admiral Porter and the Combined Chiefs filed in and quietly took seats in the rows before the podium where the President of the Congress waited impatiently to give the floor to Chang-Sturdevant.
“The dirty bastards have gone and done it!” Kutmoi shouted, guessing immediately the import of Chang-Sturdevant’s presence.
“I would remind the honorable gentleman from Bulon that such language is not appropriate in this august body,” the President of the Congress intoned. But nobody was listening because the arrival of the Chiefs had stirred them all awake and all eyes were focused down the aisle at the main entrance to the chamber. “Ladies and gentlemen!” the president shouted, rising to his feet, “Madam Chang-Sturdevant!” Suddenly everyone was on their feet, clapping and shouting. Chang-Sturdevant, nodding and smiling, followed closely by Marcus Berentus, slowly walked down the aisle. Marcus took a seat with the Chiefs and she mounted the podium, shook hands with the President of the Congress, and turned to face the members.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as of oh-six-thirty-one Ravenette time, on the sixth day of the third month of this year, a state of war has existed between this Confederation and those worlds aligned with Ravenette in the so-called Coalition of Worlds—the Secessionist Coalition as it has also come to be known.”
Outraged shouts and screams filled the chamber and it was some time before the sergeant at arms could restore order. When the delegates had finally settled down, a deathly quiet had fallen over them as they hung on her every word. Chang-Sturdevant read General Cazombi’s message. When she was done many of the delegates were openly weeping at their desks. “Our casualties have been heavy,” she announced. “As of the time this message was sent, of the more than eighteen thousand men and women who composed the garrison at Fort Seymour, only eight thousand were fit for duty. We do not know what has happened since.” She paused. “The garrison may have fallen by now. I hope and I believe that the brave soldiers under General Cazombi are still fighting, fighting on in the belief that we shall not abandon them”—delegates shouted “No! No! No!” over and over again. “Therefore, I come before you now to inform you that I have issued an executive order for the mobilization of all the armed forces at our disposal, and my military chiefs are already organizing a force to dispatch to Ravenette with all possible speed to
relieve the garrison at Fort Seymour. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending me. I shall keep you fully informed as events unfold.”
Few in the Congress of Worlds slept that night.
General Davis Lyons sat impatiently before the newly formed Committee on the Conduct of the War. The committee had been created by the Secessionist Congress shortly after commencement of hostilities, its membership composed of representatives of the Secessionist Coalition worlds, none of whom knew anything about the conduct of war. But General Davis was honor bound to appear before them and show them the respect due the members of the Coalition’s ruling body.
“These were very generous surrender terms you offered General Cazombia, sir,” the chairman intoned.
“I believe his name is Cazombi, sir. Yes, the terms are generous because the man and his soldiers deserve to be treated humanely.”
“But General, here you offered to repatriate them! Return them to a Confederation world so they could fight again? You offered the same terms to the naval personnel and the diplomats.”
“Yessir. In the case of the latter, it has been the custom since time immemorial to repatriate diplomatic personnel at the outbreak of hostilities between the warring powers. For the military personnel, I did not want to be bothered with the care, feeding, and guarding of thousands of prisoners. We are not set up for that.”
“We could have sent them to Sagunto, General, where there would’ve been plenty of room for them and they would not have required a large contingent of guards to keep an eye on them.”
General Davis controlled his temper with effort. He had more important business to attend to than to sit before the committee, which he had been doing, patiently, for more than an hour. “Sir, Sagunto is hardly yet a settled world, fit for our own citizens. Interning thousands of prisoners of war there would be tantamount to a death sentence for them.”
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