As much as Cloise’s directors needed to argue and debate the problem to prove their worth to one another, they needed someone who would make the final decision. That someone was always the proctor. As much as her people felt themselves free to choose, in the end they always relied on the ultimate authority to make their choices for them. And whether she liked it or not, she was their ultimate authority figure.
When Lucky reached the shuttle he was angry, and frightened, and annoyed, but as he took off his suit exhaustion pushed his other emotions aside. “The war, the damn war,” he cursed. “Why in tensheiss did the damn Ukes start it anyway?” He secured his suit and moved up to sit in the pilot’s couch.
For a brief instant a vision of Marsha flickered in front of him. Then it was gone, leaving him with only the pain that was the legacy of their relationship. The war had claimed her, the war and her damned Uke father. No matter what Lucky wanted to believe, he doubted if he would ever see her again.
Red and yellow, dragon fellow, echoed through his head, and he hoped Morning Song would be all right.
◊ ◊ ◊
“It is not necessary, Captain,” Lieutenant Bon said.
“Perhaps not, Lieutenant, but it is my custom to keep my crews fully informed of their mission.”
“In my opinion, sir, that is an unwise custom.”
Ishiwa frowned. “In your opinion, Lieutenant? Or in the opinion of the kyosei leadership?”
Bon spoke without hesitation. “Both, sir. If something were to happen to us and crew members were captured and questioned, they could give the enemy vital information.”
“Such ideas are defeatist, Lieutenant Bon. I do not intend for anything to happen to us. Neither do I intend to keep my crew ignorant because of some misplaced notion of the kyosei that the common spacers are incapable of trust.”
“Sir! I strenuously object. I meant no such disrespect for our crew.”
“No? Your party does, Lieutenant. I have read The Leadership of Man by your vaunted Ilizabet. Its elitism offended me, as did every other kyosei tract I ever read. Ideas like that have no place in the military.”
When Bon responded, his voice was cold and emotionless. “I would remind you, Captain, that we kyosei control the government. Comments such as yours could have an unpleasant effect on your military career.”
“Is that a threat, Lieutenant?” Anger simmered inside him as he stared at his junior. How dare a subordinate threaten him with political retribution for his opinions?
“No, sir. I meant no threat,” Bon said. “I only seek to present you with the facts concerning your status as – “
“Then if it is not a threat, I will remind you of something. It was one of your kyosei, the ever popular Marshall Judoff,” he added sarcastically, “who deserted the confederation and imperiled our valiant attacks on Matthews and Sutton.”
“She was well within her rights to withdraw – “
“I don’t give a corpse in space what rights she was within, Lieutenant,” Ishiwa said, keeping his anger firmly under control. “As far as I am concerned, she cost us thousands of lives and should be considered a traitor!”
“Sir, I don’t think –“
“And I don’t care what you think about this matter.” Ishiwa wanted to lash out at Bon. Only his training held him in check. “The subject is closed between us. Is that understood?”
Bon stared at him for a long moment, then dropped his eyes. “Understood, Captain. My apologies for angering you.”
“Accepted on one condition, Lieutenant.”
Bon looked surprised. “Sir?”
“You must read the orders to the crew. If you will do that, I will forget that we ever had this conversation.”
“You ask a great deal, Captain Ishiwa.”
“I ask only obedience and loyalty, Lieutenant Bon.”
“Of course, sir,” Bon said without hesitation. Then he paused as though searching for what to say next. “I will read the orders,” he said finally, “and I, too, will forget that we had this conversation.”
“Excellent, Lieutenant.” Ishiwa reached over his head and pulled the commander’s microphone from its niche in the bulkhead. “You may do it from here.”
It gave Ruto Ishiwa great pleasure to hear Bon read the orders to the crew. Their morale was of utmost importance to him, and knowing what they were assigned to do was one of the best ways of keeping their morale high. Obedience was also important to him. Bon had the potential to be a good hunk commander, but until he got his priorities in the proper military order, he would have to be watched constantly.
“Then let us proceed to destroy the lifeblood of Sondak for the glory of the United Central Systems,” Bon concluded. With a faint smile he handed the microphone back to Ishiwa.
“Well done, Lieutenant,” Ishiwa said before turning of the microphone.
The compliment echoed over the small speaker in the companionway outside his cabin and Bon looked startled.
“I wanted the crew to know I approved,” Ishiwa said. “They should know of my respect for you.” ‘Praise softens all blows,’ his father had said. Ishiwa hoped it would work on Bon.
4
“WILL WE BE RECEIVING ADDITIONAL SHIPS, ADMIRAL?”
“Negative, Colonel Nickerson – at least no additional fighting ships, not for a while. The Joint Military Command will be reinforcing our supply lines, and of course, we have picked up several Flight Corps wings from Roberg.” Pajandcan could tell by their expressions and the quiet whisperings that none of her officers were much pleased with her answer. But then, neither was she.
“What about dirtside?”
“There are two legions of newly activated Planetary Reservists landing now on Satterfield, and two-and-a-half legions are on their way to Bakke. Yaffee and Wallbank will also be receiving additional legions as soon as they are available.
“As most of you know, we have already set up preliminary defense zones around Satterfield and Bakke, similar to the ones we used to defend Matthews system. Quarter Admiral Dawson has prepared a general description of those zones which each of you will find in your briefing book.”
“Begging you pardon, Admiral,” a commander in the back of the room said, “but is this the same Dawson who coordinated the last wargames?”
“The same,” Pajandcan said with a smile. “The same Dawson who put you through your paces in the last two full-fleet exercises. The same Dawson who was defense coordinator for the Gyle Coalition during the Salimar Rebellion. And now, Acting Quarter Admiral Dawson, most recently the defense coordinator for the Matthews system.” There were several low whistles of appreciation. Pajandcan wished that Dawson could have been there to hear them, but he was already out at Satterfield getting ready for the Ukes. “Anything else you want to know about Admiral Dawson?”
When no one responded she said, “Very well. Now for the hardest news of all. Our forces on Sutton have apparently put up far more resistance than the Ukes expected, and slowed what we think was their plan of advance. However, the Joint Chiefs have determined that Satterfield and Bakke are both equal targets of opportunity for the Ukes as soon as they subdue Sutton. Consequently, their strategy calls for us to divide the defense elements of Polar Fleet equally between those two systems.”
“Damn!” a single voice said above the low groans of the rest of the officers.
“I’ll second that,” Pajandcan responded, “and double it.” She wanted these officers to know she felt the burden of their mission as much as they did. It was going to take all of them giving their absolute best to carry out the orders the Joint Chiefs had given POLFLEET.
“What about Wallbank and Yaffee?” an aging quarter-admiral asked, rising to his feet. “Aren’t they just as vulnerable?”
“No according to our intelligence reports, Admiral, uh, Dimitri, isn’t it?” When he nodded, she continued, “Cryptography thinks Wallbank and Yaffee will only be secondary targets in the Uke plan after they have secured a main line of approach
across the galactic pole.”
“Well, I think Cryptography’s wrong, Admiral. Damned wrong. And I think we’re taking an awful chance concentrating our defense in two systems. We’re stretched too thin as it is.”
“Hold your comments on that until the commanders meeting, Admiral. In fact, what I would like to do at this time is to give you all a few hours to study your briefing books with your staffs. Then I will meet with all senior commanders in the Operations Room to hear your comments and suggestions.”
Pajandcan paused and carefully surveyed the assembled officers. Already she had a fairly good idea which ones were going to give her trouble, but she wanted to be as fair to them as possible. “I will need all your help and assistance in developing a plan to carry out our orders,” she said slowly. “Consequently, I need your criticism as well as your advice. That will be all for now.”
As she left the room Pajandcan felt sure she was going to hear more criticism than advice at the commanders meeting, but that was to be expected. What she would have to do was channel that criticism into constructive uses. She had to make her officers understand that as little as they might like the terms under which they had to achieve that mission, Polar Fleet could and would carry it out to the best of its ability.
Three hours later, despite her mental preparations, she was surprised by the vehemence of the objections and arguments she had heard from her subordinates. How had Josiah Gilbert controlled them? She wondered. What had he done to make them willingly follow his lead?
The same thing he did when I followed his lead, she thought. He used ruthless logic combined with his incredible force of personality. For a brief instant she doubted if she could do as well. Then she dismissed that doubt. She had no choice.
“All right,” she said, calmly interrupting the heated discussion. “Perhaps we should approach our problems from a new direction. How many of you want to be transferred to other commands?” The stunned looks she saw on their faces confirmed that she had used the right approach.
Finally Admiral Dimitri spoke in a voice that seemed barely under control. “You don’t seem to understand, Admiral Pajandcan. None of us want to leave POLFLEET. No matter what they say about us on Nordeen, we know we’re the best fleet in the whole damn Service.”
“Why?” Pajandcan asked.
“Because we do a bigger job with fewer ships and men than any of the other fleets, that’s why. And we do it better.”
“Exactly.”
Someone chuckled and suddenly Dimitri laughed. “Your point, Admiral. Now you’re going to tell us that we have to live up to our reputation.”
“Doesn’t sound like I have to, Dimitri. Under Josiah Gilbert’s leadership POLFLEET made its mark as a fleet with a ‘can do’ attitude.” Pajandcan smiled. “Now you get the chance to prove yourselves.”
“You can’t stop the Ukes with just attitude,” Commander McQuay said.
Pajandcan looked the sour-faced commander straight in the eyes. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe your grandmother would have disagreed with you.”
Dimitri laughed again. “Old Battleaxe McQuay – toughest woman this service has ever seen. Better think that again, Gwendy.”
“What do you know about my grandmother?” McQuay asked, her face turning red.
“My first launchship command was the McQuay, named after your grandmother,” Dimitri said quietly. “I probably know more about her than you do. For instance, did you know that she once stopped a mutiny on the cruiser Siros when she was just a lieutenant? And that was after she had been stabbed twice and left for dead.”
McQuay looked startled. “My parents never told me that.”
“Well, maybe they never knew. But the service knew. It’s all in her records.”
“She was also the first commander of Polar Fleet,” Pajandcan added. “In fact, this fleet was her idea.” She paused only for a second. “So maybe we ought to keep her in mind as we start to work on our plans. And you, Commander McQuay, can give us a summary of her career at our next meeting.”
“Yes, ma’am,” McQuay said with downcast eyes.
Pajandcan felt better about this meeting already, and even better about Admiral Dimitri. She suspected he would be a key figure in the coming plans. “But as interesting as all that is to us, there is still much we have to discuss.”
“Admiral? I’d like to say one more thing.”
“Yes, Dimitri?”
“If our main objectives have to be the defense of Bakke and Satterfeld – and I know we can’t argue with that – then I think our secondary objective should be offensive. All this talk about Admiral McQuay made me remember something she said once. ‘Attack from your knees,’ she said, ‘so they can’t be sure that you’re down.’ If we could harass the Ukes while we’re putting those defenses together, we might be able to catch them off-guard and delay their attack.”
“Harass them with what?” Quarter-Admiral Nackiniv asked.
“Anything, Heydron. Anything we can.”
Pajandcan liked the idea, but – “That’s a dangerous suggestion, Dimitri, and one the Joint Chiefs probably won’t approve. However, I see no reason why we can’t include it as a possibility in our operations plan. Certainly the Ukes don’t expect us to take the offensive, despite what happened to them at Matthews. Anyone else want to comment on that?”
By the time the meeting ended four hours later, they had all commented on that and just about every other possibility. Pajandcan divided them into operational groups and demanded the first outlines of their plans in thirty hours. They wouldn’t get much sleep, but then neither would she.
Yet she left the meeting feeling good about what had happened. If anyone could accomplish the mission the Joint Chiefs had set for them, these officers were the ones. They might be opinionated and outspoken, but they were also pragmatic realists who let her know they would use every resource available to them. Gilbert might just have been right when he told her she couldn’t ask for a better command.
Now if Mari’s troops could continue to delay the Ukes on Sutton, that would give POLFLEET the time they needed to complete their plans. Then they would find out if they deserved their reputation.
◊ ◊ ◊
Ayne Wallen stood before the Uke officials with his head bowed. The woman was Judoff, the same one who had bargained with Xindella to bring him to this place. She was even uglier in person than she was on the vidscreen. The fat man with her was obviously a foot-kissing assistant, but Ayne did not want either of them to be angry at him. They might withdraw his ration of gorlet, and Xindella had gone to great pains to teach Ayne exactly how addicted he was to that sweet Oinaise candy.
“I asked you a question,” Marshall Judoff said.
“Be you pleased,” Ayne said softly, “is difficult to answer with precision.”
“You’d spacing well better answer with –“
“Easy, Kuskuvyet,” Judoff said. “Our friend is obviously upset. Perhaps he can explain why.”
Ayne hesitated for a moment, then decided he had nothing further to lose. He was already a traitor as far as Sondak was concerned, and the only thing protecting him was what he knew. “Is difficult to explain concept if you be not familiar with writings of Guntteray. Has to do with spacetime theory and physics of subatomic dilations.”
“I don’t want the physics of it,” Judoff said curtly. “Right now I only need to know what the effects are.”
“No,” Ayne said, looking up at her finally. “What effects could be. Could be greatest weapon ever invented. Could be –“
“You mean there is no such weapon?”
Ayne heard the anger in her voice and lowered his eyes again. When he answered, his voice trembled. “Drautzlab be working on such, but –“
“Can you build this weapon?”
“With proper facilities and assistance, yes,” Ayne said finally. He had no idea if he actually could build the weapon or not. Drautzlab’s Ultimate Weapon was still only a set of equations in
his head.
“What will it do?”
“Destroy stars,” he said simply.
Judoff laughed. “You’re insane!”
“Not insane. Have the secret here,” Ayne said looking at her again and tapping his head. “Can be done.” Her eyes had a look of the madness she accused him of, and he looked away. Cold fear spread through his bones.
“Well, we paid for you,” Judoff said finally, “so we might as well find out if you’re telling the truth. You will go with Commander Kuskuvyet. But let me tell you something, scientist. You’d better be telling the truth. If you can’t build this fantasy weapon, you will pay for your failure every moment for the rest of your miserable life. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” Ayne said softly. “Understand.” Doubts joined the flood of fear in his mind. Suppose they wouldn’t give him the proper equipment? Or sufficient help? Or suppose he couldn’t do it? Suppose the Ultimate Weapon was a fantasy? What would happen to him then?”
The man, Kuskuvyet, grabbed Ayne by the arm, and anger pushed back the fear and doubt. “Will show you,” he said suddenly. “And Sondak, too. Will blow them all to dust.” The last thing he heard as Kuskuvyet dragged him from the room was Judoff’s laughter, a laughter that pierced his soul.
5
EXPLOSIONS ROCKED THE PRISON WALLS. General Mari howled with pain as he was thrown from his bunk. A thick cloud of hot dust swept through the grate into his cell. As he struggled to his knees he realized that his broken arm was strapped to his side in a rigid cast over his coarse brown coveralls.
What had happened? What was going on? How long had he been unconscious?
From the distance came the sounds of shouting voices and the staccato blasts of small-arms fire. Suddenly Mari understood what it meant. His troops were attacking the prison!
Double Spiral War Trilogy Page 29