“What happens if we just tell them to go away? What can they do?” Bannister demanded.
Falkenberg smiled tightly. “They can’t conquer the planet because they haven’t enough Marines to occupy it—but there’s not a lot else they can’t do, Mr. President. There’s enough power aboard this cruiser to make New Washington uninhabitable.
“You don’t have either planetary defenses or a fleet. I’d think a long time before I made Captain Grant angry—and on that score, I’ve been summoned to his cabin.” Falkenberg saluted. There was no trace of mockery in the gesture, but Bannister grimaced as the soldier left the lounge.
Falkenberg was conducted past Marine sentries to the captain’s cabin. The orderly opened the door and let him in, then withdrew.
John Grant was a tall, thin officer with premature graying hair that made him look older than he was. As Falkenberg entered, Grant stood and greeted him with genuine warmth. “Good to see you, John Christian.” He extended his hand and looked over his visitor with pleasure. “You’re keeping fit enough.”
“So are you, Johnny.” Falkenberg’s smile was equally genuine. “And the family’s well?”
“Inez and the kids are fine. My father’s dead.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Captain Grant brought his chair from behind his desk and placed it facing Falkenberg’s. Unconsciously he dogged it into place. “It was a release for him, I think. Single-passenger flier accident.”
Falkenberg frowned, and Grant nodded. “Coroner said accident,” the Captain said. “But it could have been suicide. He was pretty broken up about Sharon. But you don’t know that story, do you? No matter. My kid sister’s fine. They’ve got a good place on Sparta.”
Grant reached to his desk to touch a button. A steward brought brandy and glasses. The Marine set up a collapsible table between them, then left.
“The Grand Admiral all right?” Falkenberg asked.
“He’s hanging on.” Grant drew in a deep breath and let it out quickly. “Just barely, though. Despite everything Uncle Martin could do the budget’s lower again this year. I can’t stay here long, John. Another patrol, and it’s getting harder to cover these unauthorized missions in the log. Have you accomplished your job?”
“Yeah. Went quicker than I thought. I’ve spent the last hundred hours wishing we’d arranged to have you arrive sooner.” He went to the screen controls on the cabin bulkhead.
“Got that complaint signaled by a merchantman as we came in,” Grant said. “Surprised hell out of me. Here, let me get that, they’ve improved the damned thing and it’s tricky.” He played with the controls until New Washington’s inhabited areas showed on the screen. “OK?”
“Right.” Falkenberg spun dials to show the current military situation on the planet below. “Stalemate,” he said. “As it stands. But once you order all mercenaries off planet, we won’t have much trouble taking the capital area.”
“Christ, John, I can’t do anything as raw as that! If the Friedlanders go, you have to go as well. Hell, you’ve accomplished the mission. The rebels may have a hell of a time taking the capital without you, but it doesn’t really matter who wins. Neither one of ’em’s going to build a fleet for a while after this war’s over. Good work.”
Falkenberg nodded. “That was Sergei Lermontov’s plan. Neutralize this planet with minimum CD investment and without destroying the industries. Something came up, though, Johnny, and I’ve decided to change it a bit. The regiment’s staying.”
“But I—”
“Just hold on,” Falkenberg said. He grinned broadly. “I’m not a mercenary within the meaning of the act. We’ve got a land grant, Johnny. You can leave us as settlers, not mercenaries.”
“Oh, come off it.” Grant’s voice showed irritation. “A land grant by a rebel government not in control? Look, nobody’s going to look too close at what I do, but Franklin can buy one Grand Senator anyway. I can’t risk it, John. Wish I could.”
“What if the grant’s confirmed by the local Loyalist government?” Falkenberg asked impishly.
“Well, then it’d be OK—how in hell did you manage that?” Grant was grinning again. “Have a drink and tell me about it.” He poured for both of them. “And where do you fit in?”
Falkenberg looked up at Grant and his expression changed to something like astonishment. “You won’t believe this, Johnny.”
“From the look on your face you don’t either.”
“Not sure I do. Johnny, I’ve got a girl. A soldier’s girl, and I’m going to marry her. She’s leader of most of the rebel army. There are a lot of politicians around who think they count for something, but—” He made a sharp gesture with his right hand.
“Marry the queen and become king, uh?”
“She’s more like a princess. Anyway, the Loyalists aren’t going to surrender to the rebels without a fight. That complaint they sent was quite genuine. There’s no rebel the Loyalists will trust, not even Glenda Ruth.”
Grant nodded comprehension. “Enter the soldier who enforced the Laws of War. He’s married to the princess and commands the only army around. What’s your real stake here, John Christian?”
Falkenberg shrugged. “Maybe the princess won’t leave the kingdom. Anyway. Lermontov’s trying to keep the balance of power. God knows, somebody’s got to. Fine. The Grand Admiral looks ten years ahead—but I’m not sure the CoDominium’s going to last ten years, Johnny.”
Grant slowly nodded agreement. His voice fell and took on a note of awe. “Neither am I. It’s worse just in the last few weeks. The Old Man’s going out of his mind. One thing, though. There are some Grand Senators trying to hold it together. Some of them have given up the Russki-American fights to stand together against their own governments.”
“Enough? Can they do it?”
“I wish I knew.” Grant shook his head in bewilderment. “I always thought the CoDominium was the one stable thing on old Earth,” he said wonderingly. “Now it’s all we can do to hold it together. The nationalists keep winning, John, and nobody knows how to stop them.” He drained his glass. “The Old Man’s going to hate losing you.”
“Yeah. We’ve worked together a long time.” Falkenberg looked wistfully around the cabin. Once he’d thought this would be the high point of his life, to be captain of a CD warship. Now he might never see one again.
Then he shrugged. “There’s worse places to be, Johnny,” Falkenberg said. “Do me a favor, will you? When you get back to Luna Base, ask the admiral to see that all copies of that New Washington mineral survey are destroyed. I’d hate for somebody to learn there really is something here worth grabbing.”
“OK. You’re a long way from anything, John.”
“I know. But if things break up around Earth, this may be the best place to be. Look, Johnny, if you need a safe base some day, we’ll be here. Tell the Old Man that.”
“Sure.” Grant gave Falkenberg a twisted grin. “Can’t get over it. Going to marry the girl are you? I’m glad for both of you.”
“Thanks.”
“King John I. What kind of government will you set up, anyway?”
“Hadn’t thought. Myths change. Maybe people are ready for monarchy again at that. We’ll think of something, Glenda Ruth and I.”
“I just bet you will. She must be one hell of a girl.”
“She is that.”
“A toast to the bride, then.” They drank, and Grant refilled their glasses. Then he stood. “One last, eh? To the CoDominium.”
Falkenberg stood and raised his glass. They drank the toast while below them New Washington turned, and a hundred parsecs away Earth armed for her last battle.
Go Tell the Spartans
FOR THE THREE HUNDRED
Go tell the Spartans, passerby,
That here obedient to their laws we lie.
PROLOGUE
The history of the 21st century was dominated by two developments, one technical and one social.
The technical development was, of course, the discovery of the Alderson Drive a decade after the century began. Faster-than-light travel released mankind from the prison of Earth, and the subsequent discovery of inhabitable planets made interstellar colonization well nigh inevitable; but the development of interstellar colonies threatened great social and political instability at a time when the international political system was peculiarly vulnerable. Whether through some hidden mechanism or a cruel coincidence, mankind’s greatest technical achievements came at a time when the educational system of the United States was in collapse; at a time when scientists at Johns Hopkins and the California Institute of Technology were discovering the fundamental secrets of the universe, scarcely a mile from these institutions over a third of the population was unable to read and write, and another third was most charitably described as under-educated.
The key social development was the rise and fall of the U.S./U.S.S.R. CoDominium. Begun before the turn of the Millennium, the CoDominium was a natural outgrowth of the Cold War between the Superpowers. When the Cold War ended, the European nations once known in International Law as “Great Powers” retained some of the trappings of international sovereignty, but had become client states of the U.S.; while the Soviet Union, shorn of its external empire, retained both its internal empire and great military power, including the world’s largest land army, fleet, and inventory of nuclear warheads and delivery systems.