If this attack is made at the earliest possible moment, and if all available force is used against each opponent singly, it may still be possible to destroy these combinations.
Respectfully,
K. Horsip
Member, Supreme Staff
Director of Surveillance
Horsip handed the message to Moffis, who was moodily eyeing a large chart headed:
Order of Battle, the Nationalist Racist
Planetary Alliance, Compared with:
Order of Battle, the United Socialist Planets Soviets
Moffis was grumbling to himself when Horsip handed the message to him. He read in silence, then slammed his fist on the table.
“Good! But there’s no time to lose.”
Horsip nodded grimly, and sent the message.
* * *
The rough idea of Horsip’s recommendation found its way into general knowledge among his staff, so there was a tense silence as a messenger brought a sealed message to Horsip.
Horsip dismissed the messenger, ripped the envelope open, and read:
By CommandThe High Council
The High Council believes that any interference in the situation at present would defeat its purposes.
What is needed instead is fuller information.
You are hereby requested to review the whole situation, basing your report as far as possible on first-hand information.
J. Roggil
Vice-Chairman
Horsip looked up in disgust. Moffis read the message, sitting tense and alert as he started, and slumping as he read. He handed it back to Horsip.
“Now what?”
“Now we look over more planets.”
“What would happen if instead of waiting for the Council, the Supreme Staff ordered the attack?”
Horsip felt the electric jolt go through him. Then he found himself mentally counting votes. Argit would be opposed. Maklin would very possibly agree. Roffis would do what he thought was right, but would he go against the High Council? And what about the High Council itself? Horsip suddenly laughed.
“It would be a disaster, Moffis. The High Council wouldn’t stand there with its tail wrapped around its ankles while we flouted its authority.”
“But if we let this go on, that will be a disaster.”
“I know it. But I know it wouldn’t work to go against the High Council. . . . Besides, it would be wrong.”
Moffis said unwillingly, “I know that. But something has to be done. This is almost out of control.”
“Maybe the Council does know something we don’t know.”
Moffis showed a flicker of hope.
“In that case—if we keep looking, we should find it.”
* * *
But no matter how they traveled, the situation was now developing so fast that the impression of its hopelessness had to be revised upward from day to day. They had traveled quietly on earlier visits, but now commerce raiders preyed on the shipping lanes, and terrorists amused themselves by planting bombs on passenger ships, and taking pot shots from the shrubbery around spaceports. This time Horsip brought along the guard allotted him by the High Council, along with the reinforced squadron of the Fleet that the Council had provided. Horsip spent his spare time, while not reading reports and writing summaries, making sure his force was in good order; and the effect created by this show of strength brought home to Horsip how long it had been since the central authority of the Integral Union had made its will felt.
As his reinforced squadron, its guns and launchers bared for action against the raiders, flashed past planets and space depots belonging to various authorities, its presence acted like a hot poker on tender hide. Through the big screens in the flagship’s command center, Horsip could see the hasty departure of questionable ships, the scattering of convoys, and the hurried deployment of warships off the planets of dictatorships. Occasionally a challenge flashed in:
From: Supreme High Command
National Racist Planetary Alliance
Supreme Commander
Region of Snarlebat II, Shock Combat Legion of Space
To: Unknown Fleet
Message:
Identify yourself at once, or withdraw from NRPA territory, subject to attack by NRPA combat forces at full condition of readiness. Your reply is demanded immediately.
Signed:
Q. Drekkil
Supreme Commander
Shock Combat Legion of Space
Region of Snarlebat II
“What do we do about that, sir?” inquired the squadron’s communications officer, as Horsip looked up from the message.
Horsip, itching to flatten Q. Drekkil, and sling the Shock Combat Legion of Space into the nearest sun, reminded himself of the High Council’s instructions, and asked himself whether Drekkil could be induced to attack. Whereupon Horsip, of course, could defend himself.
“H’m,” said Horsip. “This is an important matter. It will require some time to think of a suitable reply.”
“Yes, sir. But . . . ah . . . beg pardon, sir, it says here an immediate answer is necessary.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Possibly I’ll have it ready after the evening meal.”
The communications officer blinked, and pulled out his watch. He looked up at Horsip, and just at that moment the squadron commander stepped in.
“Sir, we’ve got two squadrons of warships closing in on us. I’ve just had a point-blank warning to stop at once.”
Horsip considered coldly what would happen if he were now attacked and he and the squadron wiped out while he was attempting to get information for the High Council. What would the Council do?
Horsip glanced at the communications officer.
“Send: ‘This is General Klide Horsip of the Supreme Staff. These are Fleet ships of the Integral Union. We will neither stop, alter course, nor answer questions. You are required to stand aside and cover your guns in the presence of the Fleet.’ ”
The communications officer blinked, scribbled on his pad, and rushed out. The squadron commander stared at Horsip a moment.
“If they open fire—”
“We’ll see how many we can take with us.”
The squadron commander bared his teeth in a grin, saluted, and stepped out.
The big screen showed the onrush of the two squadrons of the Shock Combat Legion. From the angle of view and comparative velocities, it was evident that Horsip’s squadron had not altered course or speed in the slightest. The Shock Combat Legion continued to close in. Then the view in the viewscreen turned into chaos as the ships of the oncoming squadrons clawed to get out of the way, broke formation, gun covers sliding over the turrets, the still uncovered guns and launchers deflecting in any direction to avoid aiming at Horsip’s ships. The long-range detector apparatus of the scattered ships swung around in all directions, obviously seeking what might be coming along behind Horsip.
Horsip shook his head. The ships of the Shock Combat Legion were now straining to form a guard of honor.
The communications officer came in, looking dazed.
“Sir, we’ve got a reply.”
He held out a slip of flimsy paper. Horsip skimmed the heading, and came to the business part of the message:
High Admiral Querk Drekkil, Supreme Commander of the Shock Combat Legion of Space in the Region of Snarlebat II, extends respectful greeting to General Horsip of the Integral Union. High Admiral Drekkil wishes to assure General Horsip of the kind regard in which the Integral Union is held by the National Racist Planetary Alliance. If High Admiral Drekkil may assist General Horsip in action against any common enemy, General Horsip has only to request assistance, and High Admiral Drekkil will give the request his most careful consideration.
Horsip scowled, glanced at the screen, where the two squadrons had formed a guard of honor and were falling behind as they altered course to align themselves with Horsip’s ships. The speed with which they maneuvered showed good discipline and good ships.
All the weapons of Drekkil’s squadrons, as the individual ships were picked out under high magnification, were covered. Drekkil had obeyed Horsip’s demand, but the message showed that he regarded the Integral Union as a foreign power, not a central government. The precision of handling of Drekkil’s ships demonstrated the force supporting his position. Drekkil, however, had no way to know what might be coming along after Horsip. Possibly that was his reason for being so agreeable.
Horsip growled, “Let’s have a message blank.”
The communications officer handed over his pad.
Horsip wrote:
General Klide Horsip expresses his thanks for the offer of that assistance which is required of every citizen of the Integral Union, to whatever planetary group or association he may belong.
As this is not the advance element of a punitive expedition, but merely General Horsip’s personal guard, no such assistance is required.
Horsip considered the message narrowly, then handed it to the communications officer. The communications officer looked nervous and went out.
The squadron commander passed him on the way in.
“I don’t like to say it, sir, but they handle their ships very well.”
“Better than our own?”
“There isn’t much to choose.”
“You’d say they have the advantage?”
“Absolutely. We’re outnumbered almost two to one.”
“We may have a fight with them shortly.”
“We won’t come out of it alive, sir.”
“But it’s important that we give the best account of ourselves we can.”