Mission of Honor

by Дэвид Вебер

  Here and there a head nodded, although some of the expressions he could see remained less cheerful than they had been.

  "In the meantime, however," he said more briskly, "the entire Alignment is in your debt. We're proud of you, and we owe you a debt no one could ever truly hope to repay. The first operation of the Mesan Alignment Navy has been, by any conceivable measure, the most successful attack by any navy in the history of space warfare. What you accomplished with a mere handful of ships is unparalleled, and you've dealt a deadly blow to both the capabilities and the confidence of our most dangerous enemies. I wish, more than I could ever tell you, that we could bring all of you back to Mesa for the public parades and celebrations you so richly deserve. For now, though, it's essential we continue to conceal our military capabilities. Especially the capabilities conferred upon us by the spider drive. At this time, no one else in the entire galaxy knows—whatever they may suspect in Manticore—who was behind Oyster Bay, or where a similar attack might be launched. It's imperative we maintain that ignorance, that uncertainty, for as long as possible. So much as I would prefer to tell everyone how proud I am of you, I can't. Not yet. I can only tell you , and even there, I lack the words to express the depth of that pride.

  "Ladies and gentlemen of the fleet, for centuries our ancestors have worked and planned for this moment." He swept them with his eyes once more, seeing the shoulders come back once again, seeing the eyes brighten anew. "Those ancestors cannot be here today, and so I find myself forced to stand in their place. But if they could be here, if it were possible for them to speak to you, I know that they, as I, would say 'thank you.' Thank you for your courage, your dedication, your professionalism, and for the brilliant way in which you've finally begun the crusade for which all of us have hoped, planned, and waited for so very long."

  * * *

  "Did I lay it on too thick, Ben?" Albrecht asked an hour or so later as he, Evelina, and their son sat down to a private supper. There was more than a hint of humor in his tone, but Benjamin wasn't fooled.

  "Actually, Father," he said very seriously, "I think they understood you meant every word of it. I certainly did, at any rate."

  Albrecht looked sharply at him across the table, and Benjamin returned his regard levelly. After a moment, Albrecht picked up his wineglass and sipped.

  "Now you've gone and embarrassed your father," Evelina scolded with a small smile. "Don't you know the Chief Executive of the Mesan Alignment isn't supposed to come all over sentimental just because the Navy's officers have performed so superbly?"

  "Oh, hush, Evie." Albrecht lowered his glass and shook his head at her. "I know perfectly well I can't fool you or Ben."

  "No, and there's no reason you should try to fool the Navy over this one, either," she told him. "I agree with every word you said to them, Albrecht. And I hope they know exactly how deeply you meant it."

  "So do I," Benjamin said.

  "Well, I do wish we'd caught more of their construction in the yards," Albrecht said. "I know all the analysts agree that taking out their ability to resupply with missiles was even more important, but I'd really hoped we could get a bigger jump on them when the Detweilers begin commissioning."

  Benjamin frowned, but he also nodded.

  The Mesan Alignment had established the first colony on Gamma almost two hundred T-centuries ago, and it had grown steadily since, although the really exponential growth had begun only over the last seventy T-years or so. Exactly when to begin that particular side of the Alignment's preparations had always been a bit ticklish, since no matter how well it was hidden, there was always the possibility of someone's stubling across it, which could have raised all sorts of questions. On the other hand, the capabilities Darius represented had always been central to the Alignment's strategy, and Albrecht's grandfather had authorized the first colonization flight as one of his last acts as the Alignment's chief executive.

  By now, the Darius System's total population was in the very near vicinity of 3.9 billion, of whom just under two billion were representatives of one of the alpha, beta, or gamma genomes the Alignment had worked to improve for so long. The remainder of the system population were genetic slaves, but the conditions of their slavery were very unlike those which obtained elsewhere. For one thing, they were treated far better, without the often savage discipline slaves often received elsewhere. In fact, the Darius System was one of the very few places where the Mesan Constitution's official legal protections theoretically intended to protect slaves from gross mistreatment were actually enforced. For another, they had a much higher standard of living. And for yet another, they formed the backbone of a highly trained, highly skilled labor force which had earned the respect of its supervisors.

  Every one of those slaves had been born here in Darius, and not one of them had ever left the system. Their knowledge of what was happening elsewhere in the galaxy, of the history of Mesa, or of their own history had been carefully controlled for generations. They'd been aware for those same generations that they and their parents and grandparents had been laboring to build first the basic industry and then the specialized infrastructure to support a massive navy, but they were convinced it was intended as a defensive fleet.

  Yet for all the years which had been plowed into Darius, all the effort, all the generations of labor, the fact remained that its space stations and shipyards were significantly less capable than Manticore's had been prior to Oyster Bay. Benjamin Detweiler didn't like admitting that, but he agreed with his father; the day someone stopped admitting the truth was the day he could kiss any of his hopes for the future goodbye. And the truth was that, despite the accomplishments of the Alignment's R&D, and despite any tactical advantages which might accrue from the streak drive and the spider, very few star nations could have matched the industrial efficiency of the Star Empire of Manticore. Indeed, Benjamin suspected that even Manticore had failed to grasp just how great an advantage it possessed in that regard.

  Over the last five or six T-years, he and Daniel had been trying to introduce Manticoran practices here at Darius, only to discover that the task wasn't as simple and forthright as it ought to have been. If they'd really wanted to duplicate Manticore's efficiency , they would've had to duplicate Manticore's entire industrial base—and its society—and they simply couldn't do that. Their labor force was extraordinarily good at following orders, extremely well trained, and highly motivated, but the kind of independence of thought which characterized Manticoran workers wasn't exactly something which had been encouraged among the slave workers of Darius. Even if it had been, their basic techniques and technologies were simply different from Manticore's. Better than the majority of League star systems could have produced, if those other star systems had only realized it, yet still at least a full generation behind the Manties.

  "I wish we'd taken out more of their wall, too, Father," he said finally. "On the other hand, the point about their missile supply is extremely well taken. Especially if we can get them to use up most of the ones they've got on the Sollies."

  "I know."

  Albrecht sipped more wine, then looked down into his glass.

  "I know," he repeated, "but I've been thinking. I know they got away from us in the yards, but we know where they are , and—"

  "No, Father."

  The two words came out very firmly, and Albrecht looked up to see Benjamin sitting back from the table and folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, there was something almost comical about the father's wheedling expression and the stern light in the son's eyes.

  "I know what you're about to say, Father," Benjamin continued. "In fact, Dan and Collin and I figured it might occur to you as soon as we realized we hadn't caught as many ships in the yards as we'd hoped."

  "So the three of you sat down and discussed it behind my back, is that it?" Albrecht's voice could have been ominous, but instead, it was almost quizzical, and Benjamin shrugged.

  "You're the one who put me in charge of the Navy, Dani
el in charge of research, and Collin in charge of intel, Father. I don't think you did it because you expected us to sit on our brains."

  "No, you're right about that," Albrecht acknowledged.

  "Well, since we were using them as something besides cushions, it occurred to us to think the same thing you're thinking. If Topolev and Colenso could get into Manticore and Yeltsin's Star undetected, why not do the same thing to Trevor's Star? Pick off the warships we didn't get first time around?"

  "That is what I was thinking," Albrecht said. "From your response, I'm assuming the three of you decided it wasn't such a great idea after all?"

  "Oh, the idea' s just fine, Father. The problem is how likely it is that we wouldn't get away with it. Let's face it, Oyster Bay was in many ways a one-off operation. It succeeded because the Manties didn't have a clue about our capabilities. Well, now they do—have a clue, I mean. They still don't know how we did it, but they damned well know we did do it, and if nothing else, they're going to be pouncing on every 'ghost footprint' their hyper sensors pick up with everything they've got. And, frankly, the fact that we haven't been able to come up with an effective detector for the spider drive doesn't fill me with unbounded confidence that the Manties might not have something we don't even know about that could do the job. I think it's unlikely , but I'm not prepared to assume it's impossible.

  "So looking at it from the perspective of getting in in the first place, things would be a lot more iffy a second time around—especially a second time around that came close on the heels of Oyster Bay."

  Benjamin looked across the table at his father until Albrecht nodded to show he was following so far.

  "Secondly," Benjamin continued then, "the force levels we'd require would actually be higher. Oyster Bay succeeded because we could plan on achieving total surprise and our targets were civilian installations. They weren't armored, they didn't have any active or passive defenses in operation, and they couldn't dodge. After what happened to their home system, I can guarantee you no one as experienced as the Manties is going to let us catch their battle fleet under circumstances like that. At the very minimum, their impellers are going to be permanently hot. Most likely, they'll have minimum station-keeping wedges up, for that matter, and they're going to have their damned FTL recon platforms deployed widely enough to give them plenty of time to get wedges and sidewalls fully up before anything gets close enough to attack. So we'd need a hell of a lot more firepower to achieve decisive results, and, unfortunately, the Sharks are too small—and we don't have enough of them—to provide that level of combat power. Worse, in a lot of ways, they're too fragile to survive the kind of damage Manty laserheads can hand out.

  "And that brings me to the third point, which is—and, frankly, Father, I think this is probably the most important consideration—that we literally cannot afford to lose the Sharks . More specifically, we can't afford to lose their crews . The people aboard those ships right now are the seed corn for the crews of the ships we're building here in Darius. We've just blown an enormous hole in the Manties' trained manpower, one that's going to be a huge factor in how long it takes them to recover from Oyster Bay. Given the way things are proceeding, and given our own operational and strategic planning, we can't afford to have the same thing happen to us. We're going to be in the position of having to enormously expand our naval personnel no matter what happens, and we don't have the institutional base the Manties do. We need every single one of the men and women who carried out Oyster Bay. We need their skills and their experience, and we need them here— alive—not vaporized at Trevor's Star."

  "Do you really think that would be a likely outcome?" Albrecht asked after several seconds. His tone was curious, not confrontational, and Benjamin shrugged again.

  "Frankly? No. I don't think the attack would be anywhere near as successful as Oyster Bay was, and I think giving the Manties another look—or the chance for another look, anyway—at our new hardware would be risky, but I don't really think they'd be likely to detect, track, and kill the Sharks wholesale. Unfortunately, 'don't think they'd be likely to' isn't a very good basis for operational planning. One thing you taught all of us a long time ago was that we can't make the universe be what we want it to be, so we'd better figure out what it really is and factor that into our planning. And in this case, the potential return, even assuming everything went near perfectly, doesn't begin to compare to the potential damage we'll take if everything doesn't go near perfectly."

  Albrecht sat in evident thought for a few moments, then finished the wine in his glass and set it back down on the table.

  "You're right. I didn't put any of you boys where you are just so you could watch me make mistakes. And I hadn't really thought about all the implications you've just pointed out. I still wish we could do it, but you're right. The last thing we need to do is to start making the kind of 'we're invincible' mistakes those jackasses in the League are making. As Isabel would have said, this isn't the time for us to be flying by the seat of our pants if we don't have to."

  "Thank you, Father," Benjamin said quietly.

  "In the meantime, though," his father said rather more briskly, "I want you and Daniel to come to Mannerheim with me."

  "Excuse me?" Benjamin looked at him quizzically, and Albrecht snorted.

  "Hurskainen and the others will all be there, and I want you two along to answer any questions—with due regard for operational security, of course—they may have about Oyster Bay."

  "Are you sure that's a good idea? If you want us there, we'll come, of course. On the other hand, do we really want to be answering questions about the new systems and the new hardware?"

  "That's a very well taken point," Albrecht acknowledged. "On the other hand, these people have all demonstrated their ability to maintain operational security, or we'd never have gotten as far as we have. I think a couple of them are feeling a bit nervous now, though. The way we accelerated Oyster Bay came at them cold, and while I wouldn't say any of them are experiencing what I'd call second thoughts, I do think the . . . anxiety quotient, let's say, is a bit higher than we might like."

  He paused until Benjamin nodded, then he shrugged.

  "In its own way, this meeting's going to be even more critical than Oyster Bay was. No one's going public, but we'll be very quietly activating the Alignment as an actual star nation. That's going to represent a huge step, and one we're not going to want to make public until the League's started to show a few surface fissures, at least. But once we begin the process, we're going to have to bring in successively lower levels in all of our members star systems' governments. The fact that we're up to something is, frankly, likely to leak out a lot sooner than we'd really prefer. I doubt very much that anyone on the outside is going to figure out what we're really up to, but that's not going to guarantee we won't have a few dicey moments in the not too distant future. And most of the people who're going to be in Mannerheim for our little meeting didn't get where they are by being stupid. It's going to occur to them, too, that we're looking at what's in many ways our greatest period of vulnerability over the next T-year or two. That being the case, I'd like them to feel as reassured as possible about the hardware we used in Oyster Bay."

  "And if they ask me whether or not we have all that hardware really and truly operational ?"

  "If they ask you that, you admit the Sharks were originally intended primarily as prototypes and training vessels, and you don't pretend we have more of them than we do," Albrecht said promptly. "The last thing we need to do is to trip ourselves up by lying to these people—or to ourselves. But at the same time, I think you should point out to them that our plans always envisioned their 'system-defense forces' as the real basis of our joint naval strength, at least in the opening stages. There are eleven of them, for God's sake! None of them may be all that huge in isolation, but when you combine them, they get a hell of a lot more impressive. What the MAN represents at this stage is our hole card, the ace we have stuffed up our sleeve just i
n case we need it. I want them to be aware we have that card and that we can play it if we have to. And I'd like them to recognize that the fleet we're building will have exactly the same capabilities—only better—and be a hell of a lot bigger. I don't want them worrying about whether or not we'll be ready to take center stage as planned when the time comes just because we moved Oyster Bay ahead."

  "I see."

  It was Benjamin's turn to sit thinking for several seconds. At length, he looked up, met his father's eyes again, and nodded.

  "All right, Father. I see what you're saying, and I think Dan and I can probably provide the . . . comfort quotient you're looking for. As long as they're not expecting us to sail our invincible fleet of invisible superdreadnoughts right into Old Earth orbit next week, at any rate!"

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Albrecht Detweiler sat back in his chair and contemplated the true crown jewels of the "onion" his ancestors had spent so long building.

  The conference room in which he sat was probably, at that moment, the most carefully protected, eavesdropping-proof conference room in the entire explored galaxy. If it wasn't, he reflected wryly, it certainly wasn't for lack of trying. This meeting was just as important, and probably even more critical, than Oyster Bay had ever been.

  For all its security, it was a large, comfortable chamber, decorated with light sculpture masterpieces carefully chosen from each of the star systems represented by the people in it. Each of the chairs around the enormous table at the center of the room had cost enough to put a student through college on most Fringe planets, and the console in front of each of them was equipped with every conceivable feature . . . including the very latest in security systems.