“They’ve got us boxed in pretty well,” the exec said.
“The reports from the patrols seem to indicate that,” Vorgens admitted. “Any chance of signaling to the orbiting ships?”
“What orbiting ships?”
“The transports that brought the Mobile Force here, and their escorts. Perhaps the ships could …”
“The ships aren’t there. Watchman. They dropped the Mobile Force three weeks ago and left Oran VI immediately. They won’t be back until they’re called for.”
Vorgens blinked in disbeBef. “But … why?”
“It’s a big Empire, son,” the exec answered patiently, “and transports are too valuable to be tied up sitting at one planet, empty and useless.”
“You mean we couldn’t retreat off the planet, even if we wanted to?”
“We could commandeer whatever ships are available on the planet, which wouldn’t be enough to carry all the men, let alone the equipment. We could get Star Watch ships in a week or so if we could make contact with somebody outside this blasted valley.”
“How in the world did all this come about?” Vorgens wondered out loud.
The exec took him literally and replied, “It started with some protest demonstrations—some farmers complaining about a nutrient-processing center we were building for them. The next thing we knew, there were riots in the cities. Then the Governor was murdered by some fanatic. The Mobile Force landed a week later, and two days after that these Komani hordes landed in half a dozen places across the planet and started terrorizing the countryside. So here we are.”
The exec stopped walking abruptly, and Vorgens realized he was standing before Brigadier Aikens’ door.