by John Bowers
"Didn't I tell you," Willard said, "that necessity is the mother of invention? When the going gets tough, the tough get going?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, there you are!" Willard didn't smile, but he was no longer scowling. "I really didn't think it could be done. Now I do."
Wade was even more astonished.
"You didn't —"
"Hell, no! Why d'you think I dumped it on my staff? I didn't have a fucking clue! But I figured, with several hundred smart-ass college kids on staff, somebody would come up with something. I just had to give you the incentive!" His craggy features broke into a grin at last. "Palmer, I want this written up and on my desk tomorrow morning. I'll review it, and you'd damned well better be ready to answer questions! If we adopt this, and if it works, you've earned yourself a promotion."
Wade gulped. "Thank you, sir!"
Willard nodded. "Tomorrow morning. Dismissed!"
* * *
Wade had his plan outline in the computer by mid-afternoon, printed a hardcopy for his own study, and made revisions. By the time he went home the final plan was ready for General Willard in the morning.
Back at his apartment, he vacillated between trying to work out a supply schedule and taking the night off. It had been a most successful day, all things considered. He wished he could share the news with Regina, but he couldn't, even if he knew where she was. Gang-Bang was top secret.
In the end he decided to have a glass of wine and go to bed. He'd earned the rest, and many long hours lay ahead. As he lay in the darkness just seconds before sleep claimed him, he wondered once more about Regina.
Where in the galaxy could she be?
Sunday, 31 May, 0229 (PCC) - Wallace Plantation, Texiana, Sirius 1
Other matters interfered with General Vaughn's scheduled Sunday arrival, and he didn't return for two weeks. But when he did, he was in full dress uniform, complete with ceremonial sword and the Binary Star on a ribbon around his neck. He entertained Scarlett with small talk during the meal, complimented the house staff, then escorted her into the garden for their walk. The day was cool, the wind still; Sirius B was over the horizon, and in a few hours Sirius A would set as well, bathing the land in blessed darkness.
But Vaughn wasn't concerned with stellar cycles as he escorted the lovely redhead through the garden. He painfully waited an appropriate length of time, repeatedly commenting on the flowers, patiently indulging Scarlett in her girl talk. Finally, he could contain himself no longer.
"Miss Scarlett … " He gazed miserably into her eyes. "Have you given any further consideration to our discussion on my last visit?"
"Our discussion?" Her eyes widened. "Oh, my goodness! I had quite forgotten!"
Vaughn's eyes filled with torture, and he seemed to deflate.
"Martin, where would we live? Would I have to leave my plantation?"
"No, of course not," he assured her. "Unless you absolutely wanted to, that is. I do have a house of my own, of course. A rather large house, as a matter of fact. It's in the city, not too far from military headquarters. I am required to spend a good portion of my time at headquarters, but certainly you would not have to be there all the time."
"I would hate to give this place up," she said, looking around wistfully.
"You would have to do no such thing. What we might do, if you like, is divide our time between this house and the one in the city. That way I would be close to my work, and yet you would not lose touch with your roots. Would you find that option attractive?"
"Why … yes, I suppose I would. I certainly would never get bored that way, would I?" She smiled, charmed at the idea. "And what about children, Martin?"
"A hundred, at least!" he laughed. "Unless you would prefer only one or two?"
She also laughed, charmed at his wit.
"Martin, I fear I have a confession to make," she said, lowering her eyes coquettishly.
"And that is?"
"I fear I have been toying with you. Yes, I admit it! I led you to believe I had forgotten your proposal, when in fact I have thought of nothin' else since your last visit."
Relief flooded his eyes, and he beamed.
"Martin, I shall be delighted to marry you. If you will forgive my teasin'."
General Vaughn stood rooted in delight for just a moment, then released a rebel yell that rattled the windows of the mansion. He swept Scarlett into his arms and kissed her firmly, but with gentlemanly restraint. When he released her she was flushed and breathless.
"Oh, my stars! You certainly are a passionate man!"
He laughed, and kissed her again.
"I have arrangements to make!" he told her elatedly. "I do not want to rush you, my dear, but neither do I fancy a long engagement. Do you have any preference as to the date of our union?"
"Why, I am so excited I can barely think! What date would please you, Martin?"
"Well, would it be too presumptuous to take our vows, say, in August?"
"August! My, that certainly is quick! But then, as you said, the war occupies a great deal of your time, doesn't it? I suppose, in view of that, we could not expect to do things the way we normally would."
"I agree completely. August it is, then. I will schedule it for the fifteenth, if that is agreeable with you. We can have the ceremony right here, in the garden."
"That would be lovely. I suppose my cousin Boyd could give me away."
"Yes. And I can arrange for one of my subordinates to stand in as best man."
"Or perhaps Captain Davenport? He is already here, on duty, and you would not need to pull anyone else away from theirs."
"Captain Davenport will do nicely. Yes, that's settled, then. I suppose you would like a big weddin'?"
Scarlett frowned in consideration.
"Once again, Martin, the war … I suppose we can forgo that for now. After the war, perhaps we can redeclare our vows, with a larger gatherin'."
"An excellent plan! Very well, then! I must be off! I have duty tonight, and I dare not be late."
"Tonight?" Scarlett frowned. "But it's Sunday."
"Yes, my dear, but the war will not wait. It appears the Federation is gatherin' its resources for an attack, and we must plan to meet it."
"The Federation!" Scarlett paled. "But — I thought they were losin' badly."
"Not all that badly, darlin'. Unfortunately, we have had some setbacks. They have successfully repulsed our forces inside their system. And now they are hopin' to assault our forces on Altair and Alpha Centauri simultaneously."
"My word!" Scarlett clutched her heart fearfully.
"Not to worry, my dear. We know exactly where they are goin' to strike, and approximately when. This will be an opportunity for us to crush their space fleet decisively. Once they make that fatal step, their home system will be wide open for us as it never was before. They will not be able to repel us again."
Scarlett still looked pale, in spite of his assurances. Her breath came in short gasps.
"Are — are you certain we can crush them?"
"Like steppin' on a' ant," he assured her. "We have them vastly outnumbered. But this is not for your ears, my dear. Forgive me for burdenin' you with the worry. I promise I shall never speak to you of such matters again."
Scarlett smiled her forgiveness.
"Martin, my love … Goodness, it feels good to say that to you! Martin, your life is about to become my life. I promise you I shall never be bored by your work. If you are so confident of victory, it will never trouble me."
He grinned and kissed her one last time.
"I adore you, Miss Scarlett. But, really, I must go now. I shall be in touch very soon. Good night."
"Good night, my love."
She watched him stride through the garden and around to the front of the mansion. Minutes later his hovercar lifted off and he headed back toward New Angeles. Scarlett waved, even though he couldn't see her, and watched until his car was out of sight. Then she made her way slowly into the house.
She had been in her room but five minutes when there was a knock. She looked up in surprise.
"Yes?"
The door opened quietly and Capt. Davenport peered inside.
"Is the general gone?" he asked.
"Yes. Can I help you, Captain?"
Davenport stepped inside and closed the door. Then he locked it. Scarlett's eyes widened a fraction as she realized the possible implications. But he crossed the room to a chair and sat down carefully, eyeing her with a serious expression.
"I need to talk to you," he said gravely.
"My goodness! It must be a serious matter, indeed!"
He only stared at her, and she became impatient.
"Well, what is it, Captain?"
"Are you going to marry him?"
"Yes, of course I am. And you are goin' to be his best man. Does that meet with your approval?"
He grinned fleetingly, and nodded. Then he sat back and gazed at her, hands in his lap.
"Did I ever tell you about my mother?" he inquired.
"No, I don't believe you ever did."
"My mother was a remarkable woman," he said.
"Was she, indeed?"
"Yes. Most remarkable."
Scarlett peered at him closely. He was playing games with her, she could see. He was building up to something, but when in the galaxy would he get to it?
"I expect you are going to tell me why?" she prodded.
"Of course, or I wouldn't have mentioned it."
"Well?"
"My mother's name was Regina Wells," he said quietly, letting the name drop like a bomb. "She was the daughter of a Federation senator. Her father's name was Henry."
Regina's eyes riveted to his, her heart stood still, and she felt the blood drain out of her face.
You'll know. Trust me. When you hear the code, there'll be no doubt in your mind he's the right guy.
"My stars!" Scarlett whispered, her hand unconsciously touching her cheek. Her head swam suddenly and she had to gasp for air. Davenport stood quickly and crossed to her, taking her shoulders to keep her from falling over, his hands firm and strong. She caught her breath at last and gazed up into his cold blue eyes from four inches away. His expression was no longer that of an SE officer.
"Wh-who are you?" she whispered.
He smiled slowly. "A friend."
"My stars!"
"My name isn't important. But I'm on your side. I've been detailed to cover you as best I can. Are you all right now?"
"I — I …"
"Stay there a minute." He crossed to the mantle, took down a bottle of peach brandy, and brought it back to her. "Right out of the bottle," he said.
She tipped the bottle and swallowed some of the sweet liquor. It was fruity and had a kick, but it worked. She felt some of the blood return to her head, and after a moment her breathing stabilized. She sat with her face in her hands while he put the bottle back. He returned to stand nearby, looking down at her. She gazed up at him, trembling slightly.
"You've known all this time?" she mumbled. "That's terrifying!"
"It shouldn't be. I'm a Feddie, just like you. I've been here since I was fourteen."
"Fourteen? How could you possibly …"
"Oh, God, don't even ask. I couldn't possibly explain it to you and make any sense of it." He pulled the chair closer and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. "He said something to you, didn't he? General Vaughn."
"Yes. H-how did you know?"
"It's my job to know. What did he say? Was it important?"
"Yes. Oh, Jesus, yes! It could mean the war!"
"What was it?"
Regina told him, and Davenport blanched.
"How in the name of god did they get that information?"
"He didn't say. But it has to be somebody high up. They've got a mole in the Polygon. They must have!"
Davenport sighed and looked around worriedly. He turned to her again.
"Did he give you any indication when this attack would take place?"
"No. He did say they knew the approximate date, but he didn't share it with me. I didn't know how to ask him."
"You did the right thing. What I need to know is how much time I have to get the word back. If I knew for certain it was a month or so away, that would help. But without a date, I have to assume it could be tomorrow." He stood up. "I have to leave for a few hours."
She leaped to her feet and clutched at him, her eyes frightened.
"Where are you going? You're not going to leave me?"
"I'll be back. As to where I'm going, if you don't know, you can't be made to tell. You go to bed. You're safer here than anywhere else on the planet." With uncharacteristic tenderness, he kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be back before morning."
He went out the door, leaving Regina Wells, aka Scarlett Wallace, standing there, staring after him. For the first time since she'd come to Sirius, she felt a cold dread deep down in her bones.
Chapter 26
Sunday, 7 June, 0229 (PCC) - San Francisco, CA, North America, Terra
Peter Miller sat at the table in the committee chamber with his hands crossed casually before him. Andrew Lockner sat at his side. It was a closed session, as usual; not even Federation Security was present. Unlike normal committee meetings, this one was so sensitive they were required to guard the chamber from the outside.
The Senate Defense Committee members had just taken their seats, sans aides. After a tense few moments as everyone settled in and straightened their datapads, Henry Wells opened the meeting with a slight strain in his voice. Glancing around the semicircle, he cleared his throat and began.
"For the record, today is Sunday, June 7, 0229. The Senate Defense Committee has been called into emergency session by the Director of the Federation Intelligence Agency. I see that all members of the committee are present, as well as the Director and Assistant Director of FIA. No one else is present; no aides are present, no security members are present."
He glanced at Lester Rice, one chair to his left. Rice looked pale; he was a great one to worry, but this time Henry felt a chill of apprehension as well.
"At this time, I yield the floor to the Director of FIA. Mr. Director."
Peter Miller nodded, unperturbed as usual. He managed a weak smile, and spoke in a clear, even voice that carried to all corners of the chamber.
"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Committee. I apologize for calling you out on Sunday, and I would not have done so were it not, in my opinion, an emergency."
He paused dramatically, heightening the tension in the room. All eyes were on him.
"Late yesterday," Peter Miller continued, "I received news of a most urgent nature. For security reasons I cannot reveal the source of this news, but I am absolutely convinced that it is authentic." He paused again, briefly. "In a nutshell, ladies and gentlemen, the Sirians know about Operation Gang-Bang."
A gasp escaped half a dozen throats. Eyes filled with horror, glances were exchanged. Henry Wells felt his stomach twist. He closed his eyes hopelessly. He didn't dare look at Lester.
"How the Sirians learned of the operation is not known," Peter Miller said. "But they do know. It would seem our leak is still functioning. The Sirians know the approximate date of the operation as well, and are anticipating a great victory. I believe the exact quote was that they would 'crush' our forces when we attack Altair and Alpha Centauri, leaving the Solar System wide open for their return."
Peter Miller raised his head and looked around the semicircle of faces. "I'm terribly sorry," he said. "That's all I have."
Jesus! Henry thought. That's plenty!
"Mr. Director," he said aloud, "have you any idea who or what the leak is, or how to stop it?"
"At this time, Senator, no. I've taken definitive steps toward that end, however. I cannot reveal those steps to you, but we're working on it. I'm confident that within the foreseeable future we'll have the answer."
"Thank you. I yield the floor to quest
ions."
There were many, most of them obvious and redundant. To most, Peter Miller replied simply that he didn't know. The committee members were so shocked that many repeated the same questions already asked and answered, but Miller patiently repeated his answers each time. After twenty minutes, Henry cleared the floor.
"I believe the Director has told us everything he knows," he said finally. "On behalf of the Committee, I would like to thank you for bringing this news to us so promptly, even if it means convening on a Sunday."
Peter Miller inclined his head graciously.
"Before we adjourn, Mr. Director — do you have any recommendations as to what we do about this? Obviously we can't just send our troops blindly into a trap."
Peter Miller shrugged. "Cancel the operation," he said.
"We can't just cancel the goddamned war!" Lester Rice blurted angrily, his face red, his hands shaking. "We've got to find this damned leak and plug it!"
"Yes, sir," Peter Miller said stoically.
"You've got to do something!" Rice bellowed, turning his fear and frustration on the FIA director.
"I assure you that I —"
"Excuse me," Henry Wells interrupted. "Once again, Mr. Director, thank you. You are excused."
Peter Miller nodded and stood up immediately. At his side, Andrew Lockner did the same. They gathered their papers and headed for the door.
"I think we have all received quite a shock this morning," Henry said to the committee. "I suggest we retire to our homes and take the rest of the day off. We have a lot to think about, a lot to plan for. We won't accomplish anything by flinging accusations or recriminations. I thank you all for coming out today.
"This session is adjourned."
In the hallway, Henry put a hand on Rice's shoulder.
"You've got to get a grip, Les," he said. "It isn't Miller's fault."
Rice was still shaking. He turned watery eyes on his friend.
"No? Then who the hell's fault is it?"
"I would say the fault lies with whoever or whatever this leak is. That's where your anger belongs, not with the FIA."
"Well, I'd like to know what the hell they're doing about it!"
"I'm sure we all would. But wartime security —"