Double Spiral War Trilogy

by Warren Norwood

  “Oh, I do agree, sir,” Rochmon said as he set a tray of drinks carefully on the table between them. “However, if you are with the battle group, won’t that make Admiral Pajandcan’s position rather awkward? It seems to me, sir –“

  “I’ve thought about that, Hew. And I appreciate what you and Mica are saying. But I won’t exactly be with the battle group. I’ll be aboard the cruiser Janet with a small escort somewhere between the battle group and Matthews.”

  “With subspace monitors?” Mica asked suddenly.

  “Yes,” Josiah Gilbert was pleased that they had joined him for dinner and this discussion, but he had no reservations about how much he could tell either of them.

  “Here you are,” Rochmon said as he handed each of them a glass, “the finest postdinner drink my famous grandmother ever concocted from distilled spirits.”

  Mica was grateful for the distraction of accepting the drink and tasting it. “Umm, delicious,” she said after the sip of the semisweet concoction slid smoothly down her throat. Yet she could not really appreciate the drink as much as its exquisite flavor deserved. She knew her father was holding something back, but she was unsure if she should probe further now or wait until after Rochmon left.

  “Quite good,” Gilbert said, holding his glass up to the light to admire the swirling liquor. “What is it?”

  “An old family recipe,” Rochmon said briefly as he sat down. “Its flavor is rather like what you just told us, Admiral – half simple ingredients, and half deception. Fools the palate into thinking it’s something that it’s not.”

  Mica smiled and watched her father carefully. Looks like Rochmon is going to probe on his own, she thought.

  Gilbert smiled at them both. “Not much good at fooling you two, am I? Well, I should have known that, but it really isn’t a question of trying to fool you, you know. It’s a matter of not compromising your integrity. What you don’t know, you can’t be forced to tell.”

  “I don’t understand, Father. Who would try to force us to tell anything?”

  “The J.C.,” Rochmon said simply.

  “General Mari and Avitor Hilldill, especially,” Gilbert added. “Neither of them believes in this plan, and once they learn that I’ve left to join the action, they’re going to dig for all the information they can get. What you don’t know, you can’t tell them. It’s as simple as that.”

  “On the other hand,” Mica said slowly, “if we don’t know exactly what you are doing or planning to do, there’s no way we can give you assistance if you need it.”

  Gilbert and Rochmon both laughed. “She remind you of anyone?” Gilbert asked.

  “Uh, not that I can think of.”

  “You, Hew. She reminds me of you. Always looking past the obvious to find what’s going on behind things. Makes the same kinds of observations you used to make.”

  “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here.” Mica was not sure she liked the comparison

  “No, we don’t, daughter-of-mine. But you do remind me of Hew when he was younger and brasher.”

  “Hardly, sir,” Rochmon said. He finished his drink and reached for the pitcher. “She has a lot more control and common sense than I had back then.”

  Gilbert laughed again, then saw the look on his daughter’s face and abruptly stopped. “What do you want to know, Mia? Shall I tell you my plans in detail? Or shall I –“

  “Stop it, Father. I don’t want you to patronize me or compare me to Commander Rochmon. I only want to know what you expect to accomplish by going to Matthews and how we can help you with your plan. If you don’t want to trust us with –“

  “It’s not a matter of trust, Mica. You of all people should understand that.” Her comment made him angry, but he knew she meant it to. Trust was one of those things which had kept them close after her mother died.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” She said simply. That wasn’t true. She understood that her father had stood alone with his convictions for so many years that he hesitated to involve others in anything he did which might be controversial. His fierce belief that Sondak should ally itself with the Castorians had almost cost him his career. It had cost him some of the gentleness and sensitivity she had loved in him as a child.

  “How long before the battle group is assembled?” Rochmon asked in an attempt to break the tension he sensed between father and daughter.

  “Ten days at the most. If the repairs to the McQuay go as scheduled, less than that.”

  “But the McQuay suffered forty percent damage when Roberg was hit,” Mica said in surprise.

  “Yes, but they’ve been working round the clock on her. She should be spaceworthy any day now.”

  “But will she be battleworthy?” Rochmon asked.

  “She has to be. Our plan requires seven launchships, and she’s the closest to completing the force.”

  “What about methane?”

  “That’s being taken care of. Admiral Eresser and I made arrangements with the diplomats for increased imports from Cloise. There were some minor difficulties” – he thought of the four ambassadors who had died trying to negotiate the increase – “but it’s being collected and loaded now, and the methane tankers will meet the battle group in the rendezvous sector shortly after the group assembles.”

  “That’s a long way to ship methane,” Mica observed, wondering if her father was going to tell them his secret plan or let them find out when everyone else did.

  “Everything’s coming a long way, including three hundred short-range attack ships. I just hope the Ukes figure the logistics are too difficult for us to handle.”

  “New attack ships?” Mica was startled. “From where?”

  “From all over – but not new, just extras we could scrounge up throughout the fleets.”

  “Sounds like a lot of things are going to be pretty tricky timing-wise,” Rochmon said quietly. “The Ukes could be right.”

  “Sir!”

  “It’s all right, Mica,” Gilbert said with a smile, “Hew has a good point. There are a great number of operations that have to come together exactly as we want them to for this to work.”

  Suddenly Mica knew. “That’s what you’re going to do! You’re going to…” She couldn’t say it.

  “Run assembly and dispersion,” Rochmon finished for her.

  “No, Mica thought, it’s –

  Gilbert chuckled. “If my plan is that transparent, maybe I’d better rethink it.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Mica said angrily. “You’re going to keep some of those attack ships in reserve, aren’t you? You’re setting up a nonrevertor group!”

  “A suicide group?” Rochmon asked. “Surely, sir –“

  Gilbert held up his hand. “You don’t know any of this – either of you. No one knows anything about any nonrevertor group. There will be a launchship and a select group of short range attack ships held in reserve to defend the assembly and dispersion force. That is all. Nothing else. Do both of you understand that?”

  Mica didn’t answer, and neither did Rochmon. Their individual affections for Josiah Gilbert made the idea of him leading a nonrevertor group the most chilling thing he could have told them.

  “Look,” Gilbert continued when he realized what they were thinking. “We have to have every option open to us. If Pajandcan’s battle group gets in trouble within a parsec of Matthews, there has to be an emergency reserve to help them out.”

  “But the McQuay won’t be in good enough shape to follow and retrieve the attack ships it launches,” Rochmon said simply. “So attack ships will either have to get to one of Pajandcan’s launchships or die out there in space.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Gilbert said. He refused to verify the truth for them. This hidden part of his plan was born of desperation, but as he saw it, Sondak was in desperate straits. If they didn’t stop the Ukes at Matthews, the Ukes probably wouldn’t be stoppable. The nonrevertor group would be a last resort attack force, one w
hich might deal an unexpected blow to the Ukes and turn the momentum of a questionable battle.

  “Father,” Mica said slowly, “I’ve seen that look on your face before. You’re determined to do something, and I know that nothing we say is going to change your mind.” She hesitated, unsure for the first time since her commission of the protocol between daughter-captain and father-admiral. “With that as a given, and with Commander Rochmon’s permission,” she added with a glance at Rochmon, hoping he understood, “I am going to request a transfer to your command. If you’re going to do this thing, I want to be with you.”

  “Absolutely not,” Gilbert said. “Nothing would be served by your presence.”

  “I beg to differ, sir,” Rochmon said before Mica could recover from the instant rebuff. “If Mica were temporarily attached to your command as liaison for Cryptography, there might be a great deal to be gained. You’re going to have seventeen of my screening ships in the Matthews operation. I’d like to recommend Mica as coordinating commander of that detachment.”

  Now it was Gilbert who wasn’t sure of the protocol. Rochmon could request the commander of his choosing. The Joint Chiefs might look with some skepticism on his choice, but with Stonefield’s backing, they would probably approve. If Gilbert said no outright, he was sure that Rochmon would go around him. But if –

  “I accept,” Mica said with a grim smile. “If that’s what it takes to be a part of this operation, I accept.”

  Gilbert sighed. “I’m not so sure…”

  “I think you’re outnumbered, sir,” Rochmon said carefully. “Not outranked, just outnumbered.”

  “Maybe I am.” He smiled slightly at Mica. “Maybe I am.”

  Mica wanted to jump up and hug them both, not of joy, but out of relief. But all her training kept her firmly in her chair. “Father, I think we both have to recognize that this whole operation is far more important than either of us. But there is no one in this universe more important to me than you.” Letting her father know how she felt in front of Rochmon somehow made it easier. “If you are right about how important the Matthews defense is, and I believe you are, then I’m proud to be a part of it, and I will be equally proud to serve Commander Rochmon while standing by your side.”

  Gilbert nodded, unable to answer, seeing in his daughter an officer he could respect as well as a daughter he loved.

  Rochmon looked from one to the other, grinning from ear to ear. “Well then,” he said, refilling their glasses from the pitcher, “I propose a toast to Sondak’s newest secret weapon – the Gilberts.”

  15

  AS THEY FINISHED THE TRADITIONAL ICE-WATER CEREMONY, Frye was annoyed by the way Commander Kuskuvyet sat smugly comfortable across the table from him. The ceremony demanded a certain humble demeanor from each of the participants, yet Kuskuvyet acted as though he had deserved the honor, or worse as though he were honoring Frye by participating.

  In the presence of Kuskuvyet’s inappropriate attitude, Frye chose his words very carefully. “Your task force will be known as the Shakav in honor of that planet’s outstanding history of contributions to our military. My task force will be –“

  “Marshall Judoff will not be pleased by that,” Kuskuvyet said matter-of-factly.

  Frye stared at his fat colleague in disbelief. It was not Kuskuvyet’s place to make such a comment, nor was it any of Marshall Judoff’s business what Charltos called the task forces.

  “She asked me to request that you call my task force the Qubee-Tah in honor of her father.”

  Frye was doubly incredulous. Qubee-Tah Judoff had been little more than a space pirate until by a freak chance he became the temporary dictator of a minor planet. The only thing which had saved him from a worse reputation is that one of his dissatisfied citizens had killed him. To name a task force after Qubee-Tah Judoff would be an insult to everyone involved.

  With a silent curse he knew he now had to be twice as careful about anything he said. Kuskuvyet’s ear might as well be Judoff’s.

  “Surely you see no harm in that,” Kuskuvyet said when Frye failed to reply. “After all, Marshall Judoff is a very powerful and respected member of Bridgeforce, and –“

  “Your pardon, please, Commander Kuskuvyet, but while I understand Marshall Judoff’s interest in this matter, I regret that I cannot accede to her request. Both the representatives from Shakav and Admiral Ushogi’s family have been notified of the honor.”

  “Ushogi?” Kuskuvyet asked in a condescending tone. “You have named your task force after that foolish old –“

  “Admiral Ushogi was one of the finest admirals ever to serve the U.C.S.,” Frye said sternly. Kuskuvyet had trod on the edge of disrespect already, and Frye would stand for no more of it. “The matter is settled. You will convey my regrets to Marshall Judoff.”

  Kuskuvyet laughed. “You’re a high-handed bastard, Charltos, and so damned old-fashioned that it makes me sick. It was people like you who lost the last war for us, and I sure as hell hope you don’t lose this one.”

  Frye stood very slowly, one hand on the security button at the edge of the table, his eyes burning steadily at Kuskuvyet, his heart furiously pumping blood through the veins in his neck.

  “Sir,” he said with all the self-control he could muster, “you will apologize instantly…or I will see to it that you sit out this war commanding nothing more than the most remote supply depot in the Systems.”

  “Why you miserable –“

  “Silence!” Frye roared as he pressed the security button.

  Seconds later, two of his personal security guards rushed into the room with stunners in their hands.

  “You will escort Commander Kukuvyet to Marshall Judoff’s offices,” he said through clenched teeth. “He has a message to deliver. If he resists, shoot him. Is that understood?”

  “Yessir!” they barked simultaneously.

  “You’ll never –“

  “Shut up!” Every muscle in Frye’s body trembled with anger. “Take him. Now!”

  “Yessir!” they barked again as they grabbed Kuskuvyet by the arms and dragged him across the room.

  Frye allowed himself a tight smile as Kuskuvyet sputtered indiginantly.

  “They will shoot you,” Frye said as the trio reached the door. “They are loyal to me.”

  Kuskuvyet never had a chance to reply as they swiftly maneuvered his bulk through the door and shut it behind them.

  With a growl of frustration Frye collapsed in his chair. What had just happened was so irrationally wrong that he had no experience to help him deal with it.

  The audacity of the man! And of Judoff!

  How dare they attempt such a thing? How dare Kuskuvyet allow himself to be used like that?

  Something clicked in Frye’s brain, and he paused in the midst of his anger? Who had been used? Kuskuvyet? Or him? Or both of them? Had Judoff set this up for some reason? It made no sense – none whatsoever. What could she hope to gain from such an irrational act?

  His microspooler dinged insistently, and he reached out without thinking and flipped it on. After the formal command designation, an excited voice started babbling something about an attack on the neutral Oinaise. For the longest moment Frye did not understand what the voice was saying. Then the words hit him like a blow to the gut.

  “…attack forces under Commander Fugisho attempted to take control of Oina system but were repelled. Fugisho refuses to report to this command or to explain his actions. As of this time his whereabouts are unknown. Request immediate instructions as to how to deal with this situation. Admiral Kimmel, out.”

  Frye tried to clear his head with a quick shake. Commander Fugisho? Wasn’t he one of Judoff’s ex-mercenaries?

  Quickly he rewound the message and replayed it, listening carefully to each word, wondering all the while if Judoff had lost her mind. After playing the message a second time, he called Admiral Tuuneo.

  “Sir,” he said as soon as the admiral’s face came on the viewscreen, “something is ter
ribly wrong around here and –“

  “I just received Kimmel’s message, and verified it,” Tuuneo said grimly. “Do you have any explanation for this outrage?”

  “None at all, sir.” Frye cursed Kuskuvyet for upsetting him so much that he hadn’t even thought of verifying the message. “I just received Kimmel’s transmission two minutes ago – right after Commander Kuskuvyet disgraced himself in the ice-water ceremony and then insulted me, and Admiral Ushogi. I had to have him forcibly removed from my offices.”

  Admiral Tuuneo’s eyes narrowed darkly. “Judoff,” he said quietly. “She is finally making her move. ‘And the fools shall dance with death in time to their own music’,” he added, quoting from the Concordance.

  “Sir? I, uh…” The quotation only added to Frye’s confusion. What in Decie’s name was going on?

  “I will explain it to you later, Commander. Remain available to me on immediate notice.”

  “Yes, sir,” Frye said as the screen went blank.

  Had a sudden fit of madness overtaken Judoff? What did Tuuneo mean that she was finally making her move?

  Like oil soaking into leather a great fatigue saturated Frye’s body and seeped glistening from his pores. Blank lethargy filled his mind. For the briefest instant he had a vision of Melliman standing before him with tears in her eyes. Then it was gone, and he could think of nothing, nothing which fit any coherent pattern. All he wanted to do was escape to some place where things made sense again.

  With a sigh of resignation he rubbed one hand over his face, trying to massage life back into his mind. Then he stood up, pulled back his shoulders, and forced himself to take three long, steady breaths.

  He had no idea what was going on, but for the moment that concern had been transferred to Admiral Tuuneo. Frye would proceed with his preperations for joining Ushogi Force and hope, now almost against hope, that Lisa Cay would arrive before he had to leave.

  One way or another she would join him. The orders had been prepared and cut, awaiting her arrival. But he desperately wanted her with him on the trip. With Melliman now gone to Ely’s command –