“Youu have to draw every last man you can get. Use your authority as a Star Watchman. I want a strong enough force to smash these marauding barbarians once and for all.”
“And the truce negotiations?”
“Let them make the request for a truce,” Aikens snapped.
“Then you refuse to obey the express orders of the Star Watch High Command?”
Aikens glared at the Watchman. “What are you trying to do, youngster, set me up for a board of inquiry? No, I do not refuse to carry out the High Command’s orders, I simply feel that the situation is so precarious at the moment that the orders can’t be put into effect. Not at this time and place.”
Vorgens stood up. “I suppose it would be pointless to attempt to argue you out of this decision.”
“Completely pointless. Good evening.”
The young Star Watchman saluted and left the brigadier’s compartment. He stood outside the door for a moment after closing it, frowning worriedly. Then he slowly made his way down the narrow passage, past the compact booths of officers’ quarters, climbed through a hatch and clambered down the side of the dreadnaught to the ground.
It was not much wanner outside than in, now that Oran had set. But the night was never completely dark, despite the hour. Oran was six times brighter than Sol, and its luminosity was great enough to keep a twilight glow in the air all night long.
Vorgens paced slowly around the mammoth dreadnaught, watching his boots stir up the dust. The Star Watch orders me to parley; the brigadier orders me to fight, he thought to himself. Orders are orders. But which set do I obey?