Sandra nodded in agreement. This whole exercise might have been a European effort to pry out information about Pontefract tubes. If the Europeans didn't know about tube travel, they would view Centauri as being months and months away for American starships trudging through realspace with rapidity drives. A New Washington that learned immediately rather than half a year later of the Centauri event would have revealed itself to have an additional method for communicating between the stars, one unknown to the Europeans. A major objective of American policy was of course to avoid disabusing the Europeans of their prejudice that only the FEU and a few friends had high speed faster than light travel. It appeared that the American policy continued to succeed.
Secretary Cornelius looked across the room. "The current thought of the Administration is to respond to the third European offer by congratulating the FEU delegation on gaining a sense of humor. Naturally, there is no thought of complying with the European request." Sandra watched intently. The Administration had not needed two days to reject the European proposal. Something else was afoot. "We had reached this conclusion even before we read the detailed European proposal, copies of which are being distributed to you, and -- before the statutory hour -- to the press. Especially interesting is the demand that, before withdrawing, American Solar Navy Landing Force detachments are to disarm American citizens who remain behind. The proposal also compared American forces with FEU replacement forces, the replacements consistently having a large quantitative superiority over our planetary and naval garrisons -- according to the Europeans. Grand Commodore Jacobsen?"
Jacobsen answered without hesitation. "Mr. Secretary, the distinguished minds here may reach their own conclusions, but in my opinion the list of European forces, arrival dates on station, and so forth were meant to imply that if we do not withdraw, we shall be attacked at a future date. It appears likely -- since otherwise they would have staged another surprise attack -- that the Europeans actually want us to depart of our own volition. We thus have considerable time to effect such preparations as Congress may identify. Of course, attacking a fortified planetary position by bombardment from space is believed to be one of the less fruitful occupations known to man. In the distinguished words of a great admiral who had the misfortune to be born in Europe, no sailor but a fool takes his ships against a fortress. This precept is as true now as when ships used sails and floated on water. Our citizens in the Kuiper belts are more exposed."
Sandra kept her own counsel. Approaching a planet at high speed was an interesting we to be broken into your component atoms and dispersed across the surrounding solar system, but a victorious space navy could advance to a hover above a planet, descend very slowly, and land troops. That was not all bad news; it would supply her fellow MinuteGirls with target-rich environments.
"In any event," Cornelius announced, "I have now presented -- and the American public will hear before the appointed hour this evening -- the European demands. The Administration will undoubtedly be grateful for your advice and counsel on the apparent European threat of renewed war. There are full simulation facilities available elsewhere in the building. For those of more practical bent, the buffet will soon be replenished with entirely new dishes. For those of you wishing to consult with third parties, the embargo ends in another five hours." An aide handed Sandra a dataplate.
Sandra stared at the handwritten note that came with the plate. Gold ink on apple-green paper was a trifle rich for her taste, but most of two centuries of tradition lay behind the President's personal missive to Morbius. "...I rely upon you to give the most fundamental consideration..." might even have been meant as warm praise.
Chapter 7
"Hoplophobia -- the irrational fear of firearms and other weapons. Hoplophobes attempt to exorcise their irrational fears by seeking to eliminate the ownership of small and heavy arms by persons other than themselves. Hoplophobia pre-eminently differs from many other mental diseases in that it is contagious. Hoplophobes are driven to infect their neighbors, and in earlier centuries were often successful. For this reason, whether or not we as psychiatrists approve of such legal restrictions, in many states hoplophobic propaganda is classed with live-subject subjuvenile pornographic imagery, its production and distribution being banned."
...Dictionary of Mental Disease, Sussman Press, San Francisco, 2043
THE PALAZZO SPLENDOROSO MORBIUS
RUTLAND, MASSACHUSETTS
May 2, 2174, 8:32 PM EST
Morbius's home perched atop a hill, its three stories of glass-paneled facade peering down over elaborate gardens to a small lake. Most of Morbius' neighbors had homes in American New Republic style, with massive earth berms--more often than not hiding an armored core--surrounding a glassed atrium or half-open courtyard. Those homes were half- or more buried. In well-illumined contrast the Palazzo thrust up at the sky, shouting its defiance at historical memories of the European Incursion.
Illumined? wondered Barbara as she peered from her car over low ornamental hedges. Morbius loved the evening sky. Lighting like this evening's was unusual, something he created rarely. “Will the technical analysis be done, dear?” she asked.
Charles smiled innocently. Barbara could well imagine his thoughts. She was extremely fond of human intelligence data, but tended to be less interested in technical issues. Morbius had put this session together. Here were the guests. There was a remarkable guest list. New Washington's political class would have been most interested, if they were allowed to think that it was any of their business.
The gate electronics passed them without question. Charles waved to the guards. More than a century after the Incursion had ended, Morbius's gatehouse was still manned by a pair of MinuteGirls---no, Barbara thought, tonight make that one MinuteGirl, one MinuteBoy, and someone from the Women's Citizens' Volunteer Forces--only safely called the MinuteBabes behind their backs--all three in power armor and full kit.
It had, Barbara recalled, been Morbius who had realized that the Incursion meant he lived in a country whose female population was routinely raped by the occupying host, and therefore that young women were the obvious core for the Popular Army. His genius lay in recognizing precisely how his potential recruits were to be activated, trained, armed, and set into operation. Morbius's reasons for choosing women rather than men as the Popular Army's backbone were among the delicate topics one did not hear discussed in polite company. He had not, however, hesitated to recruit Charles and Barbara--perhaps they had equally found him--to assist in setting his plans into effect. Now, a century and a third later, the descendants of the women he had rescued provided him with a permanent bodyguard.
The presence of the trio drew a questioning stare from Barbara. Charles appeared to be oblivious to the obvious issues. Gender rivalry between the MinuteGirls and the MinuteBoys had softened in the past half-century. Nonetheless, they generally stayed well apart. On the other hand, MinuteGirls did not generally wear power armour. The young man might have earned the respect of the people around her.
They walked up the long drive. Charles waited until out of earshot of the gatehouse before posing his question: "Barbara, dearest? The young lady from the Women's Citizen's Forces? Was she to keep the other two from shooting each other? And when did the Women's Militia start carrying antimatter weapons again?" Barbara grated her teeth. Charles always appeared oblivious to slightly unusual social events, such as people waiting for the sun to rise in the west. But he had spotted the technical explanation for a MinuteBabe's presence. Extensive training was needed to handle atomic napalm projectors. She smiled and shrugged innocently.
Morbius, hopelessly unstylish in violet academic robes and opera cape, waited for them at his front door. "Charles!" They clasped hands. "Barbara!" He bowed, kissing the air over her fingers. "So long since we last visited!" He ushered them into his home.
Morbius's modest study featured a three floor atrium, walls cascaded with hanging plants. A soft burble, the trio of thirty-foot multi-tier rapids that watered much
of the garden, suffused the room. Other guests were seated across a second floor balcony. Barbara knew most of them at sight: Steven Piper, gravitational engineer. Fidelity Blake, Morbius' astrographer friend from the Free University of New Hampshire, her academic robes a swirl of golden fall leaves and black branches against bright-blue sky. Melissa McGuire, modern analytic historian and author. Daniel Jacobsen, now in civilian clothing, a service ring the only mark of his rank in the American Solar Navy. Kirby Lee, warfare analyst, Platte Institute. Two women wearing the colors of an Intelligence Corporation--IOnEU, which was once again a closely held firm. Barbara smiled. She'd made a killing on the buyout.
At the far end of the balcony sat Sandra and a MinuteBoy, both in light-blue informal dress uniforms, working shoulder to shoulder at a cluster of a dozen data screens and workspaces. The two were Morbius's interns, a position you kept if you worked very hard, very effectively, all the time. Peering over their shoulders was a much older man in dark trousers, silver-lattice on gray sweater matching his silvered hair. A silver-gray patterned cape lay bunched unstylishly across a neighboring chair. Barbara's eyebrows went up. The game collector and strategic theorist who styled himself The Supreme Lord of the Hexagon was a recluse who almost never left North California. He had been here for several days. To judge from glances back and forth between Sandra and the Hexagon Lord, his fame already clearly exerting its near-mythical influence on young women. The guest list mentioned an electronic presence, and a displayed blank icon. The presence was Peter Gustafson, who had excellent reasons for not traveling, would likely say nothing tonight, and would tomorrow provide more insight into the situation than any two other people. Blank Icon--Barbara knew Blank Icon. She was unusually eccentric even for a member of Morbius's inner circle.
Morbius gestured Charles and Barbara toward a table of refreshments. "Sandra? Grant?" His interns looked up at him. "What progress with the analysis?"
Grant Thomas was short, dark-haired, small-boned and long-fingered. Barbara evaluated his appearance. Almost certainly his parents had sunk a substantial sum into biosculpt genemods, down to tuning his face's left-right asymmetry. "Europeans saw through Silver-Two deceptions," Grant said. "Their deployments seem set to beat us--well, us if Silver-Series were our real forces."
"But not through the Gold Series, except there seems to be a weak response to Gold-Nine," Sandra said, a smile sparkling over round face. Barbara let her ears take in the MinuteGirl's ideas; her eyes evaluated the visible person. Sandra had been their escort twice. In all that time, she might have emerged from under her cowl for all of three minutes. She was not quite as tall as was currently stylish; nor was red-brown hair currently a la mode. The uniform was of course a perfect fit over unusually solid arms and shoulders, but it was the standard MinuteGirl uniform, without the fancy tailoring, piping, and multichroming that marked bespoke personalized garments. She can't be that poor, noted Barbara to herself. Hardly anyone is any more, not to mention what Morbius pays his interns. Her clothing must be a conscious choice of non-style. Barbara took in a half-dozen bruises on the girl's arms and the ghostly tracery of an eagle in flames stitched in darker blue thread across the back of her blouse. Phoenix Guard, she recognized. Personal combat fanatic, she inferred from the bruises, enough to keep active even while slaving for Morbius.
"Silver Series they were supposed to see through," Jacobsen said. "That's a plus. We gave them deceptions they'd penetrate," he reminded Grant, "Otherwise, they'd get suspicious they had missed something. Gold-Nine is Mercury, isn't it?" Sandra nodded agreement. "They assume that Mercury is a linchpin of our economy. They expect it's massively defended. Perhaps they are responding to the obvious."
"They know about Pontefract Tubes?" Grant sounded startled.
"Unlikely," Steven Piper answered. "They aren't running tubes. We'd detect them. But they see mining operations, Poniatowski collectors and heat dumps, ship traffic. We mask cargo, but a twenty million ton ship is too big to hide. They know Mercury is full of heavy industry."
"They think we're poor," Melissa McGuire reminded, "That's stock phrasing --- 'poor as patriots' --- in their teledramas. They think they're lots richer than us---unless their whole satellite broadcast video system is faked for our benefit. That's an even-money bet. They don't wonder how Mercuric industry can ship really high-tonnage goods to us. We let them see plenty of freighters, even if they are a waste of money and time, and they don't think our industry is that big."
"Clarify, Miss Miller? Mr. Thomas?" The Lord of the Hexagon was very soft-spoken. "Basis for determining which deceptions are broken?"
Sandra Miller led the watchers through a series of screens. Here was Ceres. There was the European list of forces being sent to replace the Ceres Defense Forces. Here were the various levels of deceptions, each masking one component or another of American Forces near Ceres. The Silver deceptions were designed to be penetrated by the FEU; the Gold deceptions were meant not to be penetrated. Sandra explained the comparisons. The FEU estimates matched forces they were supposed to see if they penetrated the Silver-One and Silver-Two maskirovka and no more.
"We made more extensive correlations," Grant said. "We find the same picture every place except Mercury. That they reckoned as very heavily defended."
"Very good," Morbius said. "And autogaming against their attack forces? Does their attack win?"
"I have simulations under way, Sir," Sandra announced. The slightest smirk danced across her lips when she looked at Grant. "Stochastics take time. I did one test run, not multiples on the whole solar system at once." Barbara wondered who else had caught the by-play. Someone had seen what needed to be done next, and someone else hadn't anticipated what Morbius would ask.
"What was the first outcome?" Jacobsen inquired innocently.
"Sir, with full surprise and perfect luck, FEU lost. But they took Venus and Jupiter, and wrecked up Mercury pretty thoroughly. That run is channel 17 if you want to see it," Sandra said.
"First things first," Morbius said. "Let us look one more time at the Azores." He gestured over a screen. The rear windows filmed over, turning silver-white. Room lights dimmed. A half-hour later, Morbius interrupted: "Are we ready for summaries? Mr. Lee?"
Kirby Lee looked politely about the room, flashing the company his professional smile. "The Lincoln Planetary Fleet made superficial tech analysis. Actually, pretty good tech analysis. FEU screens are about as expected. Screens on unknowns are substantially better. Grazers on unknowns are remarkably powerful. Mogadishu got a very short multi-grazer hit on an unknown picket. That would seriously damage a Prince Edward--we think--the unknown had no hull damage--we think. Soliton antitorpedoes--Lincoln's are not very modern--were marginal to ineffective. Ter-Minassian's use of illuminated plasma clouds to mask vessels and torpedoes behind them--Lincoln PDF proposed the tactic, had mostly been ignored--worked. FEU antitorpedo defenses engaged Anaximander's torpedoes only well after they'd cleared the plasma cloud. I'll need to game a bit to be sure, but the usual estimate that we want a 10:1 hull weight advantage in any engagement seems to hold up. In short, no real surprises--except the unknown ships."
Daniel Jacobsen received Morbius's nod. "Lincoln Fleet executed tactics as I would expect by a first line operation on a tight budget. The loss of signal from Anaximander is bad luck--Lincoln PDF readiness stats are about as good as you get, which is not saying very much--boosted by the Lincoln Senate's refusal to adopt predictive maintenance. Grand Commodore Ter-Minassian, their man on the ground, was best in a decade's classes at the Federal War College. It shows in his officers. I do not know Kalinin, but his reputation is very high. People may now see the utility of keeping watch posts on the far sides of system warp points, and perhaps in a layer of systems further out."
"How did they find Lincoln?" Steven Piper inserted. "The Enghien expedition--120 years ago--didn't have warp detectors."
"They might have reached Alpha Centauri via an off-axis warp transit," Fidelity Blake noted. "I've written p
apers on that. Go to the other end of any Sol warp point, displace 4 light years real-space in the direction Alpha Centauri lies from Sol, go through a nearby warp point using settings that would carry you back to Sol through your original warp point--you might reach Alpha Centauri. Mostly, you disappear, but you might come back there, or so the math says."
Flora Barnes cleared her throat and shifted her cape, setting its IOnEU colors all ashimmer. "Perhaps we should focus more on the unexpected," she said. She paused to see if her audience was paying attention. To Barbara's eyes, Barnes was focusing on Steven Piper. Of course, Barbara noted to herself, for Barnes this would be a long posting in New England, and Piper was unattached. Charles noted Barnes' implied question and raised one eyebrow. Barnes continued. "FEU surprises. Short-wave radar. Boron fusactors. Dodecahedral hulls with no extension spines. Technical advances in acceleration compensators and torpedoes. Of course, we see their technical surprises all the time, so they are hardly surprising. Even money we sometimes are shown surprises that don't actually work, just to confuse us. The FEU delegate--the biomorph. They've never shown the least interest in biosculpt. The cat was...eerie. Drastic change in negotiating stance. Suddenly, they want our worlds."
"Hulls are Steven's specialty, aren't they?" Morbius's question was not quite rhetorical. Barbara realized that Piper's presence was not accidental. The FEU delegates had presented edited tapes of the engagement--enough to prove combat had occurred--showing a ship of highly peculiar shape being struck by xraser beams. Morbius had noted the image and summoned Piper in response.
"That's true," Piper answered softly. Barbara viewed Piper as a good friend, though one a bit transparent at times. Piper hated being put on the spot. He'd already read the reports, considered what needed doing, and checked out the people. His conclusions there were self-evident. Morbius and Blake were a pair. Barbara and Charles had been in love long before 90% of their fellow citizens were born. Morbius's MinuteGirl intern was almost certainly a hot item to Piper's eyes, but older guys in their right mind let girls wearing the Phoenix Shawl initiate action. The turndowns were sometimes...abrupt. Arthur Smith, Supreme Lord of the Hexagon--whose tastes didn't run Piper's way--was even spookier than his reputation, which was saying a very great deal. It had taken Barbara a while to realize that Arthur's cape and hood was indeed ultracamou, and that he had vanished at least twice while they were watching the tapes from Isandhlwana. Piper smiled at Flora Barnes.
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