“They want a reciprocal brokerage agreement,” Lludrow said.
Donal looked at him sharply. The open market trading of contracts had been abandoned between the worlds for nearly fifty years. It amounted to speculating in human lives. It removed the last shreds of dignity and security from the individual and treated him as so much livestock or hardware to be traded for no
I other reason than the greatest possible gain. The Dorsai, along with the Exotics, Mara and Kultis, had led the fight against it. There was another angle as well. On “tight” worlds such as those of the Venus Group—which included Newton and Cassida—and the Friendlies, the open market became one more tool of the ruling group; while on “loose” worlds like Freiland, it became a spot of vulnerability where foreign credits could take advantage of local situations. “I see,” said Donal.
“We’ve got three choices,” Lludrow said. “Give in—accept the agreement. Suffer the weather effects over a period of months while we clean out Oriente by orthodox military means. Or pay a prohibitive price in casualties by a crash campaign to clean up Oriente in a hurry. We’d lose as many lives to the conditions down there as we would to the enemy in a crash campaign. So, it’s my notion that it’s a time to gamble—my notion, by the way, not Staff’s. They don’t know anything about this; and wouldn’t stand for it if they did. Care to try your idea of throwing a scare into Newton, after all?”
“With pleasure!” said Donal, quickly, his eyes glowing.
“Save your enthusiasm until you hear what you’re going to have to do it with,” replied Lludrow, dryly. “Newton maintains a steady screen of ninety ships of the first class, in defensive orbit around it. I can give you five.”
SUB-PATROL CHIEF
“Five!” said Donai He felt a small crawling sensa-tion down his spine. He had, before Lludrow turned him down the first time, worked out rather carefully what could be done with Newton and how a man might go about it. His plan had called for a lean and compact little fighting force of thirty first-class ships in a triangular organization of three sub-patrols, ten ships to each.
“You see,” Lludrow was explaining, “it’s not what craft I have available—even with what losses we’ve just suffered, my Blue Patrol counts over seventy ships of the first class, alone. It’s what ships I can trust to you on a job where at least the officers and probably the men as well will realize that it’s a mission that should be completely volunteer and that’s being sneaked off when Staff’s back is turned. The captains of these ships are all strongly loyal to me, personally, or I couldn’t have picked them.” He looked at Donal. “All right,” he said. “I know it’s impossible. Just agree with me and we can forget the matter.”
“Can I count on obedience?” asked Donal.
“That,” said Lludrow, “is the one thing I can guarantee you.”
“I’ll have to improvise,” said Donal. “I’ll go in with them, look at the situation, and see what can be done.”
“Fair enough. It’s decided then.”
“It’s decided,” said Donal.
“Then come along.” Lludrow turned and led him out of the office and through corridors to a lock. They passed through the lock to a small courier ship, empty and waiting for them there; and took it to a ship of the first class, some fifteen minutes off.
Ushered into the ship’s large and complex main control room. Donal found five senior captains waiting for him. Lludrow accepted a salute from a gray-haired powerful-looking man, who by saluting revealed himself as captain of this particular ship.
“Captain Bannerman,” said Lludrow, introducing him to Donal, “Captain Graeme.” Donal concealed a start well. In the general process of his thinking, he had forgotten that a promotion for himself would be necessary. You could hardly put a Staff Liaison with a field rank of commandant over men captaining ships of the first class.
“Gentlemen,” said Lludrow, turning to the other executive officers. “I’ve been forced to form your five ships rather hastily into a new Sub-Patrol unit. Captain
Graeme will be your new chief. You’ll form a reconnaissance outfit to do certain work near the very center of the enemy space area; and I want to emphasize the point that Captain Graeme’s command is absolute. You will obey any and all of his orders without question. Now, are there any questions any of you would like to ask before he assumes command?”
The five captains were silent.
“Fine, then.” Lludrow led Donal down the line. “Captain Graeme, this is Captain Aseini.”
“Honored,” said Donal, shaking hands.
“Captain Sukaya-Mendez.”
“At your service, captain.”
“Captain El Man.”
“Honored,” said Donal. A scarred Dorsai face neanng forty looked at him. “I believe I know your family name, captain. High Island, isn’t it?”
“Sir, near Bridgehead,” answered El Man. “I’ve heard of the Graemes.” Donal moved on.
“And Captain Ruoul.” “Honored.”
“Well, then,” said Lludrow, stepping back briskly. “I’ll leave the command in your hands, Captain Graeme. Anything in the way of special supplies?”
“Torpedoes, sir,” answered Donal.
“I’ll have Armaments Supply contact you,” said Lludrow, And left.
Five hours later, with several hundred extra torpedoes loaded, the five-ship Sub-Patrol moved out for deep space. It was DonaTs wish that they get clear of the home base as soon as possible and off where the nature of their expedition could not be discovered and countermanded. With the torpedoes, Lee had come aboard; Donal having remembered that his orderly had been left aboard the C4J. Lee had come through the battle very well, being strapped in his hammock harness throughout in a section of the ship mat was undamaged by the hit that had pierced to the control room. Now, Donal had definite instructions for him.
“I want you with me, this time,” he said. “You’ll stay by me. I doubt very much I might need you; but if I do, I want you in sight.”
“I’ll be there,” said Lee, unemotionally.
They had been talking in the Patrol chief’s stateroom, which had been opened to Donal. Now, Donal headed for the main control room, Lee following behind. When Donal reached that nerve center of the ship, he found all three of the snip’s officers engaged in calculating the phase shift, with Bannerman overseeing.
“Sir!” said Bannerman as Donal came up. Looking at him, Donal was reminded of his mathematics instructor at school; and he was suddenly and painfully reminded of his own youth.
“About ready to shift?” asked Donal.
“In about two minutes. Since you specified no particular conclusion point, the computer run was a short one. We’ve merely been making the usual checks to make sure mere’s no danger of collision with any object. A four light-year jump, sir.”
(4Good,” said Donal. “Come here with me, Bannerman.”
He led the way over to the larger and rather more elaborate Control Eye that occupied the center of this control room; and pressed keys. A scene from the library file of the ship filled the globe. It showed a green-white planet with two moons floating in space and lit by the illumination from a G2 type sun.
‘The orange and the two pips,” said Bannerman, revealing a moonless Freilander’s dislikes for natural planetary satellites.
“Yes,” said Donal. “Newton.” He looked at Bannerman. “How close can we hit it?”
“Sir?” said Bannerman, looking around at him. Donal waited, holding his eyes steady on the older man. Bannerman’s gaze shifted and dropped back to the scene in the Eye.
“We can come out as close as you want, sir,” he answered. “See, in deep space jumps, we have to stop to make observations and establish our location precisely. But the precise location of any civilized planet’s already established. To come out at a safe distance from their defenses, I’d say, sir—”
“I didn’t ask you for a safe distance from their defenses,” said Donal, quietly. “I said—how close?”
Bannerman looked up again. His face had not paled; but there was now a set quality about it. He looked at Donal for several seconds.
“How close?” he echoed. “Two planetary diameters.”
“Thank you, captain,” said Donal.
“Shift in ten seconds,” announced the First Officer’s voice; and began to count down. “Nine seconds— eight—seven—six—five—four—three—two—shiftl” They shifted.
“Yes,” said Donal, as if the shift itself had never interrupted what he was about to say, “out here where it’s nice and empty, we’re going to set up a maneuver, and I want all the ships to practice it. If you’ll call a captain’s conference, captain.”
Bannerman walked over to the control board and put in the call. Fifteen minutes later, with all junior officers dismissed, they gathered in the privacy of the control room of Bannerman’s ship and Donal explained what he had in mind.
“In theory,” he said, “our Patrol is just engaged in reconnaissance. In actuality, we’re going to try to simulate an attacking force making an assault on the planet Newton.”