Upon returning, Carey's crewman offered the Commander-in-Chief a spring-capsule. Having pointedly held out the small object for Brant's inspection, Arlen rolled back his sleeve to press the device unhesitatingly against the muscle of his arm.
"Commander…wait." Brant's strained appeal produced a delay. "I now believe you innocent of Courtney's charge. But he said he could produce a witness…a peer I respect…or did…"
"Let's settle this question, gentlemen." Releasing the spring, Arlen sent the drug surging into his vein. "Who gave you the capsule?" he inquired of Carey's spacer.
"Fourth Corps' physician, sir. Cornelius."
"No possibility of tampering, then, would you say, Brant?"
Flayed by embarrassment, the officer thus challenged stared at the autocrat whose mobile face developed a faint flush. Even as Brant watched, the high forehead beneath his superior's closely clipped brown hair beaded with drops of perspiration, and the flush deepened to crimson: two unmistakable signs of the drug's taking hold.
Fighting daunting dizziness, Arlen waited the five minutes all knew to be required for maximum effectiveness. Dropping heavily into a chair, he retched. By the sheer force of an indomitable will, he mastered an onslaught of nausea. With patent irony, he observed, "As you see, I'm not dosed with the antidote, Brant. Ask me whatever you wish."
"Did you ever insult me in Courtney's hearing?"
"Absolutely not! Nor have I ever insulted you in anyone's hearing. I'm not in the habit of passing disparaging remarks behind men's backs."
Every man in the cabin perforce accepted that statement as incontrovertible, being well aware that the potent drug produced an irresistible compulsion not only to answer any question asked, but also to reply with utter truthfulness, however self-incriminating the revelation might prove.
"I believed you, sir, before you went to this length." Turning to Courtney, Brant hissed contemptuously, "I served you to the best of my ability--judged you a man of honor." Deadly venom infused the high voice as the duelist stated grimly, "You lied in your teeth awhile ago, for your own ends. You offered me a mortal affront. I demand the ultimate satisfaction. I'll send my seconds to you in two hours."
Caught in his own trap, Courtney blanched. Shifting his glance from Brant's merciless eyes to Arlen's icy ones, he strove to preserve a seemly dignity, knowing himself doomed. Acidly, he retorted, "I'll give you satisfaction." Better a clean thrust, than dying spaced after being convicted of treason , he conceded silently and despairingly. And I will be. Even if the evidence presented consists only of this unsuccessful attempt to manipulate a touchy duelist into issuing a challenge to a dictator who seized absolute power by force of arms--even if it fails to include any conclusive proof of conspiracy on my part--Galt, Norman and Dexter would vote in a heartbeat to dispose legally of a man they know to covet what they themselves want: the chance to supplant this accursed bastard!
"Send your seconds after 1700," Arlen instructed, concealing his glee at hearing the challenge he knew to constitute a death sentence accepted by the man he had fully expected to refuse the challenge, out of a faint hope that a tribunal of his peers might absolve him of guilt. Resolved now upon letting this fortuitous duel rid him of his rival, rather than pressing charges bound to arouse resentment in the ranks of Fourth Corps, he added crisply, "Carey will be detaining Courtney here, until that hour. Brant, come with me."
Stepping into the corridor, where six of Carey's spacers guarded the entry, Arlen drew the Captain whose loyal service he hoped to secure, out of their hearing. "I take it you accept my offer?" he asked serenely, his mobile face expressing only keen interest in the reply.
"Yes, sir. Gladly. I owe you an apology, sir." Brant met squarely the eyes impaling him as he uttered words that Arlen knew he had seldom, if ever, employed thus far in his life.
"No apology is due me," Arlen avowed crisply. "You acted with courage, on provocation you saw no reason to question. Who was the peer you mentioned, who backed Courtney's story? Otis?"
Manifestly uncomfortable, the Fourth Corpsman reluctantly admitted, "Courtney said Otis would bear out his accusation, sir, but given that the damned brute lied to me, he could well have lied about Otis's involvement."
"Or used some threat he held over Otis to force his compliance. Well. I'll escort you to a cabin in Fifth Corps' Headquarters, where I'll accept your word that you'll remain until I return to release you from your parole."
"You have my word, sir." You play the game with cool nerve, damned if you don't, the opportunist commended the victor, as relief surged though his adrenaline-saturated system.
Withdrawing a square of cloth from a pocket, Arlen mopped his brow. Flushed, perspiring, he strove to dominate a daunting lightheadedness aggravated by recurring waves of nausea. As he proceeded down the corridor, the sufferer tried valiantly to keep his gait from betraying the full extent of his giddiness.
Brant noticed. Upon arriving at a flight of stairs, he put forth a muscular arm, and wordlessly steadied the man at his side.
Having negotiated that obstacle, Arlen concluded that he could walk without aid, but passed no comment. Inwardly amused, he allowed his companion to maintain the iron grip that Brant tactfully released as the pair arrived at the entry to Fifth Corps' Headquarters. With courtly graciousness, the Commander-in-Chief thanked his benefactor.
"You're welcome, sir."
Out of courtesy, Arlen personally escorted the detainee into an unoccupied cabin near the main entry, rather than consigning his charge to a guard. No whit reluctant on his own part subtly to manipulate a subordinate so as to gain his own ends, the canny judge of men announced briskly, "Since you've given your parole, I'll not lock the door. I'll have someone deliver you a meal, and coffee. Rest assured that I'll strive to make your tedious wait as short as possible."
Leaving the man gratified by the compliment to meditate on the newly enhanced security of his cherished career, Arlen followed Fulke, the chief administrative officer of the corps that the dictator still personally commanded, into the latter's office, where he ascertained that all of the captains performing their assigned duties had arrived with their prisoners.
Having expressed satisfaction to the Lieutenant Commander upon whose discretion he knew he could rely, Arlen obtained a cup of hot coffee and a bar of high-energy food-concentrate from a galley, and withdrew into a vacant office to rest, hoping to mitigate the lingering effects of the drug.
Well, that gamble paid off, he congratulated himself with pardonable pride. I stand deeply in debt to Adrienne--a debt I'll repay. Close shave, that exchange of verbal thrusts. If Courtney hadn't been so paralyzed by the consciousness of his guilt, he might have shot me a few questions of his own, which in my utterly vulnerable state I'd have been under compulsion to answer truthfully. I might well have spilled vital information I'd regret anyone's knowing. I'd better make damned sure that I'm free of the effects before I deal with Dexter, Galt and Norman. Forcing himself to relax, Arlen ate the sweetish concentrate, and washed it down with coffee.
Shortly thereafter, Dahl sprang his trap on Yukio as the unsuspecting Fourth Corpsman walked unaccompanied into the office of the shipworks at Dunn, to find himself surrounded by six hard-bitten spacers armed with swords. "I'm Dahl, Captain, Fifth Corps," the leader informed him. "The Commander-in-Chief entrusted me with orders for you--these." The antagonist obviously prepared to compel compliance handed a datapad to the brown-skinned man no taller than the officer confronting him.
Eyes black as Dahl's own glinted with anger, as Yukio grated, "I take it you've possessed yourself of my ship?"
"I have. Your orders--and mine--require that you accompany me. Let's go."
Having followed his prisoner onto the bridge of Simon's vessel, Dahl left one of Danner's spacers in charge of his motley crew, and escorted Yukio into Simon's cabin. Turning to study the detainee's expression, the observer accurately gauged the potency of the man's resentment. "Sit down," Dahl invited.
Wor
dlessly, warily, Yukio settled onto a bunk.
Pulling the chair loose from its magnetic hold on the deck, the Captain seated himself facing the officer in his custody. "Yukio, if any man knows what it's like to lose a ship, it's I. I lost one of Norman's to Signe and a force that included her full complement of captains. I'd be dead now, or serving a life term in a military penal work detail, if Arlen hadn't investigated, and then demonstrated his belief that I did all any man could have done in the situation in which I found myself. He wrested me out of Norman's service, and took me into his own.
"Arlen's scrupulously fair. While he's said nothing to me of what he intends to do with your ship, you can safely wager that he'll need captains he can trust, if this operation's paralleled by others like it. He ordered me to let you tell your lieutenant that you've been called away unexpectedly, and instruct him to carry on. If you manage so that your second officer sees no reason to call Fourth Corps' Headquarters, you'll earn Arlen's good will. The converse will be true, if you arouse your subordinate's suspicions. I'll report accurately the manner in which you conduct yourself during your call. I urge you to weigh beforehand what you'll say, and watch how you say it."
Rising, Dahl gestured the man who now regarded him speculatively, into the chair.
Yukio sat for a time, thinking. At length, he raised the shipworks.
"Raymond, I've been called away unexpectedly," the captive officer informed his subordinate in a most creditably noncommittal tone. "I'm leaving you in charge of the operation. Once you've conveyed the entire consignment of parts to the loading dock, remain on guard there. Spell off the men two at a time to eat. There'll likely be a delay in the arrival of the Corps' cargo vessel, so prepare your mind to endure what could be a long wait. I'll see what I can do to alleviate the problem."
Dahl read faint surprise, but no suspicion, in the face and voice of Yukio's second officer. "Yes, sir," Raymond responded phlegmatically, and signed off.
"Did that satisfy you?"
"Perfectly. I'll personally inform the Commander-in-Chief of your wholehearted cooperation, Yukio, besides noting it in my report. Harness in, right here. One of my men will join you."
After harnessing himself into the first helm couch, Dahl lifted the ship, and set it on a trajectory that would take it back to the capital. Relaxing, he savored his accomplishment. I'm not much of a hand at suave persuasiveness , he acknowledged, well aware that his ability in that line fell far below that of the Commander-in-Chief. Arlen told me to use tact. I figured with Yukio frankness would work better. It looks as if I judged accurately. I hope to hell Arlen comes out on top today!
Having consigned his prisoner and Norman's three spacers to Danner, the aide exulting at the success attending what he perceived as a test of both his loyalty and his ability strode down the main corridor of Fifth Corps' Headquarters, where he spied the Commander-in-Chief emerging from a cabin.
"Ah, Dahl," the dictator exclaimed. "On your way back to my office?"
"Yes, sir."
"Step in here a minute. Let me close the door. What was Yukio's reaction?"
"At first, anger, which he controlled admirably. After listening to me, he handled his lieutenant so that Raymond never suspected a thing. Yukio's a man who keeps a cool head in a crisis, sir."
Arlen's fluid countenance lit with warm amusement. "You of all people should be able to judge that quality accurately," he affirmed. "I commend your tactful handling of an officer whose services I hope to enlist. Well, go on back. I'll return around 1600, if all goes as I hope."
"Good luck, sir."
I'll need it , Arlen assured himself dourly as he strode down the hall to interview Dexter.
Amin rose to his feet in the outer of two offices. "All went smoothly," Arlen's senior captain confided in an undertone, mindful of the presence of the two subordinates guarding the entry. "Not cordially, but smoothly. Dexter's in the other office, and he's angry to the core. Lambert's next door, feeling caught between two immovable forces. He didn't say much--acted as if he'd follow his superior's lead as long as he was under the man's eye.
"Dexter blustered, and tried to overawe me into backing down. He told me I had colossal nerve to threaten to use force to detain a man of his rank. I informed him that I never made threats, as he'd discover within seconds. I declared that if he refused to accompany me on his own two feet, we'd lay ungentle hands on him, much as I'd regret a necessity so repugnant to me. Preston and I advanced with evident intent to do just that, prompting Dexter to growl that he'd walk here himself. I commended his graceful acquiescence to the inevitable, and treated him with the utmost politeness thereafter, but it was touchy for a few seconds."
"You handled a tough assignment admirably, Amin."
Sliding back the door, Arlen strode in to face the tall, sinewy, upright figure rising to confront him. Steely gray eyes attested to the magnitude of the tightly controlled anger their owner focused on the assured, highhanded author of what the Commander of First Corps considered an outrage.
"Well, Dexter, I've spent the day seizing the Earth-armed vessels of my commanders," the dictator announced airily. "I took that route in order to save each of you from the egregious error of refusing a request, and following that refusal with insubordinate action. As things stand, you've done nothing to earn censure from me, given that you accompanied the officer carrying out my order to detain you. I regard my decision as necessary, while regretting the inconvenience it caused you.
"Your detention will last until late today. Tomorrow, I'll meet with all four of you, and explain certain alterations I'm making in the structure of Columbia's military establishment. I urge you to prepare your mind to accept those changes, if you wish to retain command of First Corps. In the crisis I see facing our world at this point in our history, I need men upon whom I can rely absolutely, in positions of command. I value your talents, Dexter, but I'll most assuredly break a man who employs his talents to intrigue against his commander-in-chief."
Arlen projected unmistakable menace as he concluded that blunt statement.
Dexter stared belligerently at the rival who he knew must now control the bulk of the vessels brought from Earth--ships armed with the irreproducible weaponry. Thus equipped, the Commander-in-Chief could not be overthrown in a lightning military coup of the sort that Arlen himself staged upon Leon's demise. Eyes narrowed, manner frigid, the renowned swordsman decided against issuing a challenge. Scathingly, he retorted, "I resent your assumption that I needed to be forcibly prevented from taking some insubordinate action, had you made a reasonable request regarding the ships. I'll overlook that statement, which borders on insult, and I'll continue to carry out my duties in a fitting manner. Just what crisis do you see facing Columbia?"
"A war in space, with Gaea."
"You think it'll take nineteen Earth-armed vessels to wrest one from the hands of a woman who managed to lift the ship she stole, by luck alone?" That shrewd thrust dripped sarcasm.
"I remember your commenting nine Earthyears ago, Dexter, that it would take Norman all of six fourweeks to quash a force led by a woman--if that long."
Anger shot lividly from piercing gray eyes. "On her own rock, backed by warriors like Conor, Signe prevailed--but in space, in a military ship manned by men wholly untrained, she'd be insane to try taking on our fleet!"
Amin's assessment exactly , Arlen reminded himself. Am I overestimating what that infernal woman might manage? "We spend considerable time and energy hunting renegades like Chapell, Dexter--men whose ships don't boast the irreproducible weaponry. We've lost two cargoes to that thrice-damned turncoat's raids in the last Earthyear. Imagine Chapell's commanding an Earth-armed military ship--free to strike anywhere, any time, out of the black--and you'll realize why I'm taking all possible precautions. As for tracking down a lone vessel among the thirty-nine inhabited planetoids of the Gaean Group, our fleet would be operating in hostile space, a vast distance from Columbia, with no base of supply. No, I see the course upon whi
ch I've embarked as an absolute necessity."
"Chapell's a man trained as a military spacer. Signe's a female figurehead--a rallying point for a rebellion!"
"A formidable figurehead, Dexter. Well. I welcome your assurance that you'll continue to carry out your duties in a fitting manner. I'll return as quickly as I can, to end this tedious detention."
Standing before the closed door, Arlen glanced at his watch as he exchanged a few words with Amin. Exactly two hours before Galt shows up. Check with Dahl.
Having ascertained that no peremptory callers as yet signaled that news of his strike had leaked out, the strategist debated with himself, and took a further chance. In a series of interviews with the captains his men detained, Arlen recruited Yukio, Lambert, Demetrius, and Marcel into the new force he planned to create, noting that all four men evinced profound relief.
The leader who prided himself on his unblemished honor tendered no offer either to Yancey or Otis. A man guilty of mass murder, I wouldn't employ were he the only spacer-captain available, the Commander-in-Chief railed blackly, still chafing against the need to allow a criminal to escape retribution. And crime or indiscretion--whatever Otis did that Courtney covered up--that alone forms a telling strike against a captain, but one who allowed himself to be blackmailed into an act likely to end in death for a man innocent of any offense, I surely don't need in my service!
Well. Five capable officers. Six, counting Dahl. Could I possibly persuade Wassel? I might succeed, depending on how well Galt dissimulates the rage my move will produce.
Promptly at 1510, Galt and Flynn, followed by ten spacers, strode through the pressure-proof door of the outer lock into the corridor, to find themselves confronted by eight bared swords and three military handweapons. Evan, his sword sheathed, placed his considerable bulk opposite Galt's captain, whose hand flew to the hilt of his own blade. "Don't draw, Flynn," the Fifth Corpsman warned harshly. "My hands are quicker than your sword-arm."
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