“Mclntyre was killed?”
“That’s right,” Giradaux answered, his voice rising. “Did you expect any of us to come back alive?”
“I didn’t even know …”
“You knew he’d try it. You must have knowm. He’s dead, and you—”
“That’s enough\” Aikens bellowed.
Giradaux snapped to attention.
“Get to your quarters, trooper. And don’t budge a toe out of them until you’re told to. Move.”
With deliberate care, Giradaux made a letter-perfect salute. Aikens returned it, and the trooper pivoted on his heel and left the wardroom. But Vorgens could still feel the pain that he felt, and sensed the anger within him,
“Whatever possessed a veteran like Mclntyre to—to ignore my wishes, to go dashing off on his own?”
Aikens smiled grimly. “An army is built on discipline, Watchman. Mclntyre saw that discipline shattered the way you took over command. He was simply following the example you set—and you see where it leads.”
Vorgens sat in stunned silence as Aikens got up from his chair and strode out of the wardroom. He remained there, alone, heedless of time, staring at the bare, metal wall with unseeing eyes. Officers and orderlies would open the door to the wardroom from time to time, and, seeing him there and the expression on his face, would silently shut the door and leave Vorgens to himself.
Finally, the exec stepped in, hesitated a moment at the door, then walked to the chair next to Vorgens and sat down. He placed a yellow dispatch film on the tabletop before the Watchman.
“The ships from Star Watch Headquarters have arrived and taken up a parking orbit around the planet. When do you want the troops to land?”