“A long war,” Bannister admitted. “But your initial successes raised hopes, and we got a lot of supporters we hadn’t expected. They demand an end.”
“Fair-weather soldiers.” Falkenberg snorted. “Common enough, but why did you let them gain so much influence in your Council?”
“Because there were a lot of them.”
And they all support you for President, Glenda Ruth thought. While my friends and I were out at the front, you were back here organizing the newcomers, grabbing for power . . . you’re not worth the life of one of those soldiers. John’s or mine.
“After all, this is a democratic government,” Bannister said.
“And thus quite unable to accomplish anything that takes sustained effort. Can you afford this egalitarian democracy of yours?”
“You were not hired to restructure our government!” Bannister shouted.
Falkenberg activated his desktop map. “Look. We have the plains ringed with troops. The irregulars can hold the passes and swamps practically forever. Any real threat of a breakthrough can be held by my regiment in mobile reserve. The Confederates can’t get at us—but we can’t risk a battle in the open with them.”
“So what can we do?” Bannister demanded. “Franklin is sure to send reinforcements. If we wait, we lose.”
“I doubt that. They’ve no assault boats either. They can’t land in any real force on our side of the line, and what good does it do them to add to their force in the capital? Eventually we starve them out. Franklin itself must be hurt by the loss of the corn shipments. They won’t be able to feed their army forever.”
“A mercenary paradise,” Bannister muttered. “A long war and no fighting. Damn it, you’ve got to attack while we’ve still got troops! I tell you, our support is melting away.”
“If we put our troops out where von Mellenthin’s armor can get at them with room to maneuver, they won’t melt, they’ll burn.”
“You tell him, Glenda Ruth,” Bannister said. “He won’t listen to me.”
She looked at Falkenberg’s impassive face and wanted to cry. “John, he may be right. I know my people, they can’t hold on forever. Even if they could, the Council is going to insist . . .”
His look didn’t change. There’s nothing I can say, she thought, nothing I know that he doesn’t, because he’s right but he’s wrong too. These are only civilians in arms. They’re not iron men. All the time my people are guarding those passes their ranches are going to ruin.
Is Howard right? Is this a mercenary paradise, and you’re not even trying? But she didn’t want to believe that.
Unwanted, the vision she’d had that lonely night at the pass returned. She fought it with the memory of the party, and afterwards . . .
“Just what the hell are you waiting on, Colonel Falkenberg?” Bannister demanded.
Falkenberg said nothing, and Glenda Ruth wanted to cry; but she did not.
X
The Council had not voted six days later. Glenda Ruth used every parliamentary trick her father had taught her during the meetings, and after they adjourned each day she hustled from delegate to delegate. She made promises she couldn’t keep, exploited old friends and made new ones, and every morning she was sure only that she could delay a little longer.
She wasn’t sure herself why she did it. The war vote was linked to the reappointment of Silana as governor in Allansport, and she did know that the man was incompetent; but mostly, after the debates and political meetings, Falkenberg would come for her, or send a junior officer to escort her to his quarters—and she was glad to go. They seldom spoke of politics, or even talked much at all. It was enough to be with him—but when she left in the mornings, she was afraid again. He’d never promised her anything.
On the sixth night she joined him for a late supper. When the orderlies had taken the dinner cart she sat moodily at the table. “This is what you meant, isn’t it?” she asked.
“About what?”
“That I’d have to betray either my friends or my command—but I don’t even know if you’re my friend. John, what am I going to do?”
Very gently he laid his hand against her cheek. “You’re going to talk sense—and keep them from appointing Silana in Allansport.”
“But what are we waiting for?”
He shrugged. “Would you rather it came to an open break? There’ll be no stopping them if we lose this vote. The mob’s demanding your arrest right now—for the past three days Calvin has had the Headquarters Guard on full alert in case they’re fool enough to try it.”
She shuddered, but before she could say more he lifted her gently to her feet and pressed her close to him. Once again her doubts vanished but she knew they’d be back. Who was she betraying? And for what?
* * *
The crowd shouted before she could speak. “Mercenary’s whore!” someone called. Her friends answered with more epithets, and it was five minutes before Bannister could restore order.
How long can I keep it up? At least another day or so, I suppose. Am I his whore? If I’m not, I don’t know what I am. He’s never told me. She carefully took papers from her briefcase, but there was another interruption. A messenger strode quickly, almost running, across the floor to hand a flimsy message to Howard Bannister. The pudgy President glanced at it, then began to read more carefully.
The hall fell silent as everyone watched Bannister’s face. The President showed a gamut of emotions: surprise, bewilderment, then carefully controlled rage. He read the message again and whispered to the messenger, who nodded. Bannister lifted the microphone.
“Councillors, I have—I suppose it would be simpler to read this to you.
‘PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT FREE STATES OF WASHINGTON FROM CDSN CRUISER INTREPID BREAK BREAK WE ARE IN RECEIPT OF DOCUMENTED COMPLAINT FROM CONFEDERATE GOVERNMENT THAT FREE STATES ARE IN VIOLATION OF LAWS OF WAR STOP THIS VESSEL ORDERED TO INVESTIGATE STOP LANDING BOAT ARRIVES ASTORIA SIXTEEN HUNDRED HOURS THIS DAY STOP PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT MUST BE PREPARED TO DISPATCH ARMISTICE COMMISSION TO MEET WITH DELEGATES FROM CONFEDERACY AND CODOMINIUM INVESTIGATING OFFICERS IMMEDIATELY UPON ARRIVAL OF LANDING BOAT STOP COMMANDING OFFICERS ALL MERCENARY FORCES ORDERED TO BE PRESENT TO GIVE EVIDENCE STOP BREAK BREAK JOHN GRANT CAPTAIN CODOMINIUM SPACE NAVY BREAK MESSAGE ENDS'”
There was a moment of hushed silence, then the gymnasium erupted in sound. “Investigate us?” “Goddamn CD is—” “Armistice hell!”
Falkenberg caught Glenda Ruth’s eye. He gestured toward the outside and left the hall. She joined him minutes later. “I really ought to stay, John. We’ve got to decide what to do.”
“What you decide has just become unimportant,” Falkenberg said. “Your Council doesn’t hold as many cards as it used to.”
“John, what will they do?”
He shrugged. “Try to stop the war now that they’re here. I suppose it never occurred to Silana that a complaint from Franklin industrialists is more likely to get CD attention than a similar squawk from a bunch of farmers. . . .”
“You expected this! Was this what you were waiting for?”
“Something like this.”
“You know more than you’re saying! John, why won’t you tell me? I know you don’t love me, but haven’t I a right to know?”
He stood at stiff attention in the bright reddish-tinted sunlight for a long time. Finally he said, “Glenda Ruth, nothing’s certain in politics and war. I once promised something to a girl, and I couldn’t deliver it.”
“But—”
“We’ve each command responsibilities—and each other. Will you believe me when I say I’ve tried to keep you from having to choose—and keep myself from the same choice? You’d better get ready. A CD Court of Inquiry isn’t in the habit of waiting for people, and they’re due in little more than an hour.”
* * *
The Court was to be held aboard Intrepid. The four-hundred-meter bottle-shaped warship in orbit around New Washington was the only neutral territory available. When the Patriot delegates were piped aboard, the Marines in the landing dock gave Bannister the exact honors they’d given the Confederate Governor General, then hustled the delegation through gray steel corridors to a petty officer’s lounge reserved for them.
“Governor General Forrest of the Confederacy is already aboard, sir,” the Marine sergeant escort told them. “Captain would like to see Colonel Falkenberg in his cabin in ten minutes.”
Bannister looked around the small lounge. “I suppose it’s bugged,” he said. “Colonel, what happens now?”
Falkenberg noted the artificially friendly tone Bannister had adopted. “The Captain and his advisors will hear each of us privately. If you want witnesses summoned, he’ll take care of that. When the Court thinks the time proper, he’ll bring both parties together. The CD usually tries to get everyone to agree rather than impose some kind of settlement.”
“And if we can’t agree?”
Falkenberg shrugged. “They might let you fight it out. They might order mercenaries off planet and impose a blockade. They could even draw up their own settlement and order you to accept it.”