Horsip smiled, and said, “General, I don’t need you any longer.” He glanced around, to see a line of his own armed guards, with General Maklin beside them. The guards looked all business. Maklin had a look of wondering awe on his face. Horsip stepped aside, to give the guards a clear line of fire, if necessary. The Snard general thrust out his jaw and faced the guards.
Horsip shook his head. “Relax, General. I need good men. It should be possible to find quite a few after Snard is smashed up.”
“Ganfre will turn on you afterward!”
“If Snard attacks here, the chain of events can’t be stopped.”
“You can’t trust Ganfre! He has no principles!”
Horsip shrugged. “It’s too bad it has worked out this way, but you don’t think we can permit an attack without striking back? You can understand this. It is exactly what you would do, isn’t it?”
Horsip glanced at Moffis.
“There is no reason for us to hold the general prisoner.”
Moffis looked agreeable.
Horsip looked back at the Snard officer.
“How many armed men do you have with you here, all told?”
The general was staring straight ahead, beyond the line of Centran guards, at the big screens of the Master Control Center. He had a look of fascinated attention, but turned with a shake of the head to face Horsip.
“How many? About two hundred and fifty—the staff of our embassy, plus the guards.” He looked apologetic. “It seemed like enough.”
Horsip nodded. “Just get them all together, and get them back to your embassy.” His manner was open and generous. “We will overlook all this.” Horsip glanced at Moffis. “Instruct the provost to open up the doors one at a time, to let the general and his men out.” Horsip glanced at the general. “You agree, of course, to get all your men back to your embassy, without delay?”
“Yes, as soon as I can. I thank Your Excellency for your kindness.”
Moffis got busy on the phone, the automatic door at the end of the room slid open, the Snard general saluted, and marched out with his officers.
There was a silence in the room.
Horsip let his breath out slowly.
He groped around, felt the edge of his desk, and found his chair. He sat down slowly.
Moffis said soberly, “What happens when the Snard fleet gets here?”
Horsip took a deep breath. “If he can get a message off fast enough, maybe it won’t. When does Hunter get back here with his Special Effects Team?”
“He was due the day after tomorrow. I sent a message through the Communications Section as soon as this started, to speed him up. He should be here tomorrow.”
“Good.” Horsip glanced at the stitching-gun beside Moffis’ desk. “I appreciate your forethought, Moffis.”
Moffis nodded, but he had the expression of someone adding up figures and not liking the total.
“What happens,” he said, “if there is an attack? Hunter can’t stop them. We don’t have time to get our own guard back here soon enough. And practically every man we’ve got here is in the next room. We can no more stop Snard than tissue paper can stop an avalanche.”
Horsip tried to think. The trouble was, he had next to nothing to work with. It was reaching the point where it took strokes of genius and special dispensations to keep going from day to day. The only sensible thing to do was to assemble the strength he did have in one place, so that he could at least act with decision. But, as soon as he did that, the dictators would take over the rest of the Integral Union. The only place Horsip could hope to hold was the planet of Centra itself. But once he let the dictators know his real weakness, even Centra wouldn’t be able to hold out for long.
Moffis was saying, “At least we could go down fighting. This way—”
“Sir,” said the lieutenant who had announced the arrival of the Snard general, “the emissary from the NRPA is outside, and demands to see you. He says he has orders from Guide Ganfre himself.”
Horsip sucked in a deep breath. “How many guards does he have with him?”
“None, sir. He has three officers.”
“Send him in.”
Moffis said, “What do you want me to do?”
“Ignore the whole thing. It’s beneath your notice.”
“I suppose I should put this gun away? But with Ganfre . . .”
Horsip looked at the stitching-gun, its ugly snout pointing at the spot where Ganfre’s emissary would have to stand.
“Leave it there, Moffis. I hope you have the safety off?”
Moffis reached over, and there was a dull click.
“It’s ready to fire. You only have to touch the trigger.”
Horsip nodded, pulled out a report at random, and a chart showing the strength of Ganfre’s fleet looked up at him.
As he shoved this back into the pile, he heard the rap of heels striking the floor in unison. He glanced up to see four gray-uniformed officers, their caps at jaunty angles, approaching down the long aisle. Their uniforms were pressed into knife-like creases. Small emblems glittered on their chests. Their heads were tilted back, their expressions arrogant. Horsip ignored them.
With a click of the heels, they halted before his desk.
Horsip swiveled his chair, and bumped the gun.
There was a little gasp. Horsip looked up.
One of the lesser officers was eyeing the gun nervously. The other three ignored it.
Ganfre’s emissary stood radiating contempt, then raised his hand in a formally correct salute.
Horsip looked him over without enthusiasm, then returned the salute.
Ganfre’s emissary took one step forward, slapped an envelope on Horsip’s desk, stepped back, and snapped his hand up again to salute, as if about to leave the room, his whole manner contemptuous.
Horsip rested his left hand on the gun, and said coldly, “I’d appreciate it if you would stay here while I read this. There may be an answer.”
The emissary glanced from the gun to Horsip, and snapped his arm down. When he spoke, his voice carried:
“For that, I will have you hanged by your feet in the market place, to be ripped to pieces by wild dogs.”
Horsip had a sheet of crisp paper out of the envelope, and had got it pried open enough to see what it was—an ultimatum with a half-day limit. He was balancing how to convert this colossal disaster into something useful when there was a harsh rap of heels. General Maklin, his uniform spotless, leather and medals glittering, stepped out, jerked the NRPA emissary around, and smashed him across the face. As the emissary went down, Maklin yanked him to his feet again.
Maklin’s voice rang with confident good cheer:
“You piece of stinking garbage! You will have the elect of Centra hanged! That statement gives me the pleasure of doing what I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw you! General Horsip, by your leave . . .”
Horsip, still absently trying to calculate what to make out of this mess, said, “Do anything you want with him, General, it’s all the same to me.”
Maklin booted the emissary down the aisle. Then he threw him out the door.
Horsip dropped the ultimatum in the waste basket, and looked up at the three paralyzed officers, still opposite the desk.
From the corridor, Maklin’s voice carried loud and clear:
“Guards, take this subhuman garbage, carry it outside, and dump it beside the main steps. Careful, or you’ll soil your uniforms.”
The three NRPA officers stirred, as if struggling to come out of shock.
Horsip, still trying to make something out of the mess, concluded it was so far beyond hopelessness that maybe he could do something with it, after all. He spoke irritably.
“Well, what are you standing there for? Isn’t there any sense in the whole NRPA? Get out there and help your molk of a commanding officer back to his quarters before I change my mind and have the lot of you shot.”
The highest ranking of the three drew himself up stiffly, and tried to speak. But the shock of this treatment caused his words to get jammed up in a general congestion:
“You cannot . . . we . . . the insult . . . our mighty fleet . . .”
“Does it ever occur to you,” said Horsip irritably, “that we can get tired of trying to save you from yourselves? We could smash your fleet anytime. Unfortunately, things are not that simple. Now, we have had about enough for one day. Get out there, and take care of your emissary. Believe me, he is in better shape than your fleet will be in if we attack it. Now get out. Move!”
The officers, shocked and incredulous, saluted and started out, the highest ranking one first, the other two behind. Though they walked stiffly, there was a jerking quality to their stride so that they appeared to be tiptoeing.