Double Spiral War Trilogy

by Warren Norwood

  “That is true, Admiral,” he said seriously, “but it would be nice, just once, to have the materials I need to conduct a truly superb defense.”

  “You and half the officers in the service.”

  Dawson sighed. “Very well. If we take what we now know, we are going to have to make a few more of those adjustments you and I talked about, especially in terms of pulling our fighting ships back within a tighter perimeter.”

  Pajandcan wondered what his response was going to be to the surprise she had for him and laughed.

  “I don’t see what’s so funny, Admiral.”

  “Nothing, Mister Dawson. Absolutely nothing. However, there is one more piece of information you need to evaluate and react to before you make any further plans.”

  “And that is?” He cocked an eyebrow at her as though he were skeptical of anything she might tell him.

  “The Joint Chiefs have given me the discretion of putting you totally in charge of defense – if you’re interested and willing, of course.” For only the second time since she had met him, Dawson looked truly surprised.

  “But, Admiral, wouldn’t that usurp your…I mean, how would that look to the rest of the military if a civilian –“

  “You wouldn’t be a civy,” she said with crinkling eyes. “They want to give you a reserve commission of Quarter Admiral with the concomitant pay and privileges.”

  “That’s crazy! They’re asking me to commit suicide!”

  Pajandcan lost her smile. “Oh? Are you now saying that Matthews cannot be successfully defended?”

  “I’ve been saying that all along. But you haven’t been hearing me. Now with this ‘easy target’ plan of theirs, it ought to be pretty obvious to anyone with a brain that –“

  “And are you suggesting that I don’t have a brain?”

  Dawson pulled his mouth shut and stared at her.

  “Come now, Mister Dawson. Be honest with yourself and with me. You like all this defensive planning. It brings your talents into action. I told you the J.C.’s were going to provide external support for the defense. Now I’ll tell you the rest of it. I’m going to command that external force. I want you here, commanding the defense of Matthews.”

  “But why me?” he asked finally. “There are half a dozen of your officers quite capable of –“

  “I know my officers, Mr. Dawson, and they’re all capable and dedicated people. But not one of them has your imagination for defense. Certainly none of them have your experience.” She paused and looked at him for a long moment.

  “It’s odd, Mister Dawson, but in spite of the fact that this has not been my favorite post in all my service years, I’ve become rather attached to the Matthews system. I like being able to go down to Reckynop and spend a week or two in the mountains. I like the people who live here, even if I don’t totally approve of their anarchic form of government. I don’t want anything to happen to those people.”

  “But, Admiral, if I –“

  “Let me finish,” she said more sternly than she meant to. “Now I have a chance to protect Matthews system by commanding the battle group which will lay in wait for the Ukes to attack. I also have the rare opportunity to choose who will lead the defense of the system itself. And I choose you, Mister Dawson – Croatean, Gyle Coalition, homo communis dirtsider that you are – I choose you because I think you are the best possible person for the job. Maybe the only person who can give us a chance of success.”

  She paused again, but he just stared back at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. “There, sir, I’ve revealed all my prejudices,” she said quietly, “and I still want you to do this in spite of them. What do you have to say to that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “There’s nothing I can say, Admiral Pajandcan. You have me at a total disadvantage. I’m sure that if I should refuse Sondak’s offer, that I would quickly find myself restricted to some corner of the galaxy or another where I would endure the local situation until the war’s end.”

  He was wrong, but she let him continue.

  “And if I agree, I’m probably condemning myself and thousands of others to death.”

  “Wrong on both counts,” she said quietly. “Refuse, and you will remain here as defense coordinator under whoever takes command. Agree, and you could make a significant contribution to the conclusion of this war.”

  “I’m surprised by the first, and seriously doubt the second,” he said bitterly.

  “Then let me ask you something, Mister Dawson. Why did you agree to come here in the first place?”

  He returned her steady gaze for a few minutes before answering. “I thought I had a debt to settle, a debt I owed to Sondak for sparing my life. Now I’m not so sure.”

  Pajandcan waited for him to be more specific, then decided to prompt him. “So you’ve decided your debt is paid by spending a month or so here, sharing your expertise with us, then running off when the going got rough, is that it?”

  Dawson gave her a grave smile. “Not at all, Admiral. I think I’ve just realized the true value of the debt. Your Admiral Y’Ott’s forces could have killed me, but he chose to instruct them not to. So in a way, I owe Sondak my life. The only way I can repay the debt is by giving my life back to Sondak. The problem is…I wasn’t quite ready to do that, not yet, but…”

  She wanted to help him, but didn’t have much to work with. “It’s your decision, Mister Dawson, yours alone. I can’t make it for you, or tell you what to do. I can only give you a few days to make it in. But when I tell you it’s time to give me an answer, I’ll want it then, one way or the other. Understood?”

  Dawson gave her a small nod, his eyes closed, his head bowed, his thoughts a million parsecs away.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Frye hated himself as he left Melliman’s quarters in the early morning light. He hated her, too – hated her for letting him…for giving him the opportunity…for inviting him to share his grief and loneliness. It was not fair to hate her because of the way he felt, but he did.

  Yet he didn’t. She had been compassionate, offering herself to him, not as a surrogate, but as a woman who cared deeply about him for herself. He had taken advantage of her emotions, of her devotion to him in a way that was totally inexcusable – personally or militarily.

  She’ll have to go, he thought as he returned home. There was no way he could face her every day, knowing how she felt, feeling his own shame, and still be able to function with her as his AOCO. It would be a great loss, but he would cope until Lisa Cay returned and could take over the job.

  He quietly cursed his vulnerability, and stupidity, and lust, and lack of self-control as he bathed and changed clothes. Later, as he sat reading the latest field reports in his office, he tried to block Melliman from his mind, glad he had told her not to report for duty until midday and regretful that he had not told her to take the whole day off.

  He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to remember the loving body she hid under the crispness of her uniform. But most of all, he did not want to face the cold wave of anger that her presence would arouse in him.

  Frye concentrated on the reports again, and forcefully banished thoughts of Melliman from his mind.

  The Pierce system had fallen almost without a serious fight, its inhabitants incapable of resisting even the small U.C.S. force Frye had sent against it. The five systems in the Ivy chain had put up extensive resistance, and according to the reports in Frye’s hands, the planets themselves were probably unconquerable without using a considerably greater number of ships and more personnel and equipment than they were worth. So long as the U.C.S. ruled their space, he did not care what the groundlings in the Ivy chain did.

  Ata One and Two, the water planets around Thayne-G, had capitulated as soon as the U.C.S. ships announced their presence in the system, but Frye was skeptical about the genuineness of their surrender. However slow and dim-witted the denizens of those two planets were, he knew from an early mission ther
e as a cadet that they were fiercely antagonistic toward outsiders who had any notion of controlling them or their system. Best to send a message immediately, warning the garrison commander to be especially careful, or she might find herself with unwanted and unpleasant surprises on her hands.

  With a faint smile Frye caught himself before calling Melliman to take the message, and a new emotion linked itself to her – chagrin. She had inadvertently taught him to be very wary of his own weaknesses. One more credit for her. One more reason she had to go.

  As he turned back to the reports, he quickly recognized what had been a growing concern about the limited engagements with Sondak’s BORFLEET patrols. Despite all reassurances from the sectors, he did not at any time believe that the surprise attacks had so weakened Sondak’s forces that they could not put up more than token resistance.

  What were Sondak’s Joint Chiefs really up to? Why were their forces spread so thinly? Where were they planning their counteroffensive? And when?

  Those questions had plagued him and his staff and would continue to plague them until the U.C.S. had successfully taken the Matthews system and established their forward base there. Then and only then would he feel comfortable enough to believe that Sondak could truly be defeated.

  Frye set the reports aside, stood, straightened his uniform and quickly ran through his mental checklist. He was prepared to answer any question Admiral Tuuneo might have for him, so without hesitation he put the reports in their folder, tucked it under his arm, and left his office.

  Melliman still had not arrived. But Frye knew that when he got back, he was going to have to perform the unpleasant task of telling her she would be reassigned. As he walked to Admiral Tuuneo’s office he wondered if he should ask his senior…no. There was no reason to involve Tuuneo. This was something he had to do himself.

  But he could ask Tuuneo if someone else needed a good AOCO. He could do that much for Melliman. He owed her at least that much of a courtesy.

  13

  LOW, WHISPERING SOUNDS SEEPED PERSISTENTLY into her brain. Pale mists of pain shrouded her thoughts. The total blackness of insides surrounded her. The cool softness of fabric touched her sides. Slowly, ever so slowly, Leri pulled herself up into consciousness, aware at once of tight abrasive bindings around her body, and the close confines of her prison.

  What had happened?

  Exeter! The folder. Smoke and nothingness.

  She remembered it all dimly, as though it had happened to someone else long before.

  But why, why had it happened? Why? What burrowed reason could Exeter have for…The humans. Sondak. The methane collectors. All of that and more.

  In her weak, queasy state it still did not make sense. Did they think that by capturing her and dragging her – she gulped, suddenly aware that the bindings served two purposes. Those queasy feelings had troubled her stomach once before, the one time she had traveled into space.

  Now she knew where they had taken her. Yet she had no better idea of why, or what they thought they would accomplish. Apparently they had a misconception of a proctor’s importance.

  “So, you are awake,” said an all too familiar clacking voice close by her ear.

  Leri tried hard to turn toward it, but the bindings locked against her skin. “I am awake,” she said finally as she relaxed her straining muscles. “What new human treachery are you part of now, Exeter the Castorian?”

  “No treachery at all, Proctor. Sondak’s humans know nothing of your, shall we say, visit?”

  Confusion swirled in front of her lingering pain. “I do not believe you, Exeter. The humans must know what –“

  “The humans are stupid – and naïve, as usual. They believe whatever suits them at the moment, and what suits them is what I tell them – that you and I will be continuing our discussions next season.”

  “Then what is the purpose of this insanity? I demand you take me home immediately.”

  “Now I could hardly do that,” Exeter’s voice said more softly, “could I? If I returned you to the surface, why you would cause immense trouble for me. No, Proctor, I’m afraid you will be staying with me for a little while yet.” He laughed, as though he had made some joke.

  “But why? Why?” she demanded.

  “Because I have need of you – or at least parts of you, the most delicate, delicious parts of you.”

  Leri gasped. “You can’t mean…” The strong, acrid scent of her fear flooded the confines of the chamber and almost choked her.

  “Oh, but I do Proctor, I do. Each time I visited you I saw before me a living feast, food such as before I only dreamed of eating. I suspect you will be good, Proctor Leri, very good indeed, chilled slightly, of course,, and served with a special sauce of my own making.”

  She gasped again, already chilled by the repulsiveness of his intentions. But deep within her, the heat of anger fought the chill and forced her mind to resist as his voice rolled on.

  “Did I not tell you I had studied your people? Did not the acid bubble under my tongue at what I saw going to waste on your planet? Did I not hunger after you with a love deeper than any you could possibly imagine?” He paused, then whispered, “No mate could ever want you as much as I do, Leri Gish Geril.”

  The tone of his voice frightened her as much as his words. Exeter had totally lost control of himself. “I’ll spoil myself,” she said desperately. “In fact, I’ve already started doing it.” Her fear-stench grew stronger even as she spoke. “Can you smell me, Exeter? Can you?”

  There was a faint click, and the whispering hiss got louder.

  “That’s right, Exeter. Take a good sniff. That’s the smell of your feast spoiling. Spoiling, Exeter!” She laughed crazily, darkly, wildly, until the cacophony of her own voice pressed her mind back through the nightmare toward sanity.

  “Then I shall have to gas you again, my dear Proctor,” he said in a sad, quiet tone.

  “It’s too late, Exeter. My glands have done their job. How do you think my kind survived all these Millennia? Because none of our predators wanted our bad tasting meat!”

  She waited for him to respond, then, fearing the unknown, called to him. “Exeter? Exeter? Do you hear me? Do you understand? You might as well take me home. If you do that and leave our system, nothing will happen to you. I promise.”

  After a long pause he said, “Yes, I could arrange for that.”

  His voice was even fainter than before, and the sadness slowed and weighted his tones.

  “If I push you out the lock, eventually gravity will take you home.”

  Leri could barely understand his last word, but she heard the click and caught the first hint of the gas in time to close her nostrils to it. Immediately she relaxed her body and began her meditation of peace, seeking suspension as the Confidantes had taught her when she reached maturity, seeking the stilling of her body that was her only defense.

  She dared not think of what could happen next, dared not believe that he would actually cast her into space. But if he did, the thick mucus seeping from her pores and hardening on her body would protect her for…for how long? For how long in space before she dropped through the atmosphere?

  Forcing herself to shut the questions out she sank deeper and deeper into tranquility, trusting in the only tunnel of survival open to her, until all but the most careful observers, or very knowledgable biologists, or her own people would have thought her dead.

  Less than four hundred kilometers away, Sondak’s two massive collectors sucked thousands of cubic hexameters of methane per second from Cloise’s atmosphere. They removed the free carbon dioxide, then purified, dehydrated it, cooled it, then magnetically ram-pumped it into fuel cylinders at a million grains of pressure per square centimeter for use by Sondak’s short range spacecraft.

  The people who operated the collectors and loaded the tankers neither knew nor cared about anything else in this system. They were rough men and women who enjoyed the pay and benefits of dangerous labor. They were also proud experts
, specialists who gave all their energy every shift to make their contribution to the war.

  Sondak needed the gas, needed it in a hurry. These crews would collect it. Other crews of specialists would deliver it. It was as simple as that, an important job being done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

  Even if they had known about Leri’s plight, they would not have paused in their work, would not have given her a second’s thought, much less considered assisting her. Such a suggestion would have made them laugh. Leri and her people were nothing more to them than alien salamanders whose lives had no meaning compared to humans. And never would.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  “The politicians have to be convinced that we’re actually doing something positive,” Mari said quietly. “Otherwise” – he paused and looked around the room for any signs of allies – “otherwise we’re liable to find ourselves up to our pockets with civilian observers wanting to know what’s going on, and generally getting in the way.”

  “And you suggest we tell them everything?” Admiral Stonefield asked.

  Mari did not like Stonefield’s emphasis on the last word of his question, but he refused to step in the trap. “No, sir, I am only suggesting that as the Joint Chiefs, it is our responsibility to get them off the Service’s backs. One way we can do that is to give them some idea of our overall strategy.”

  “And the Tellers, too,” Lindshaw added. “My people are strained to the limit trying to keep them and their stories in line with reality. Have you seen some of those stories? ‘Ukes Sweep Through Free Systems,’ ‘Sondak Services Demoralized,’ and the best one came today because we wouldn’t tell them anything yesterday, ‘Joint Chiefs Paralyzed.’”

  “Then get new people,” Avitor Hilldill said.

  “Smack an asteroid,” Lindshaw snapped back at him.

  “As you were, Avitor!” Stonefield barked in a voice that settled them all. “We have too much we need to accomplish,” he continued, “without –“