The Universe — or Nothing, Meyer Moldeven [best color ebook reader txt] 📗

military fleet to a high level of readiness. Prepare instructions to our commanders for my signature. We must reach our maximum combat capability in the shortest possible time."

Narval's eyes gleamed beady-bright.

"The shortest possible time. Did you hear me,
Drummer?"

"Yes, Mr. President, I heard you."

"I want to be informed, within the next one hundred hours, when you and Brad expect the fleet will be ready for sustained operations, and I mean 'combat readiness'. The names of ship and facility commanders who do not cooperate with you or Brad will be reported to me immediately. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Very well. Now, I have a special assignment for Brad. As soon as the two of you have the fleet upgrading program under way, I want Brad to conduct a joint review with INOR military commanders to find out what shape they're in for a confrontation with the UIPS, should it come to that. I've already communicated with the heads of Outer Region governments, and they've agreed in principle to a preliminary meeting. I've approved a meeting place off Neptune; Scarf has the schedule and the coordinates. He will accompany Brad as my Security representative and sit in on all discussions. Tell Brad to use the Dragon for the mission and to chair the meeting. Let the INOR people tour our ship; we must give the impression of power. Any questions?"

"Brad may need to reveal what he knows of plans to take the Depot."

"I want him to do just that early on in the meeting. It will give them all a target against which to plan and integrate deployment schedules, vectors, tactics and combined operations. Anything else?"

"No, President Narval."

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

Brad stood beside Captain Crisper and surveyed the scene in the tank on the Dragon's bridge. Scarf lounged in an accello-net within sight and sound, as he had for most of the voyage from Pluto.

The Dragon's pilot and communicator, upper bodies insulated in instrumented cubicles, concentrated on their tasks. Arms folded across his chest, Zolan stood along a bulkhead where his eyes could take in the full compartment without altering stance.

Ahead lay Triton in its retrograde orbit around Neptune. The moon's expanse was only partially accommodated by the tank. The Dragon's penetration instruments revealed Triton's jagged peaks and chasms through vaporous nitrogen clouds. Steady, high-intensity beacons marked the location of domed mine shafts that probed and sucked at the satellite's core. A cluster of tank towns and their outriders rode the satellite's horizon.

Gleaming slivers separated from the surface, converged, assumed an egg-shape and bloomed into a flight of spacecraft. They formed up abreast fifty kilometers distant, facing the Dragon's bow.

The speaker above the communicator's enclosure broke into the bridge's silence.

"Message from Captain Yargoul of the Jovian Battle Cruiser Windstorm to Captain Crisper of the Plutonian Battle Cruiser Dragon."

Captain Crisper spoke without moving or taking his eyes from the tank.

"The message."

"Greetings, Captain Crisper. I have been authorized by my President and the INOR representatives I am escorting to inform you that we are here in response to the invitation of your President. Is the representative of your Government present?"

The Captain glanced at Brad, who nodded. The response was released.

"Greetings from Captain Crisper to Captain Yargoul. My government's representative, Commander Brad Curtin, is present and prepared to meet with you and your colleagues. Commander Curtin suggests the meeting take place in the Command Conference Room on board the Dragon as soon as the primary members are aboard. Is that agreeable?"

A short pause, then the reply "Affirmative." Shortly, utility boats cut away from the ships and converged on the Dragon. Each utility maneuvered to synchronize axis and align portals. Precisely positioned, each vessel locked on in turn and extended ship-to-ship catwalks.

##

The Dragon's conference room hummed with the murmur of the Dragon's seated guests when Brad entered and took his seat at the table. Zolan occupied a seat against the bulkhead behind Brad, adjacent a glowing view tank.

Scarf was there somewhere along the side, known and ignored; a security agent to peer over INOR citizens' shoulders was normal.

Professionals long in their trade, they were battle cruiser and destroyer flotilla commanders of the major INOR powers, backed up by their experts in military intelligence, tactical operations, and navigation, logistics and internal security. Brad's measure would be taken quickly, and his influence and INOR's decisions would depend on their assessments. He expected no less.

Brad's eyes ranged the table, giving each face equal time. They returned his scrutiny, casual, arrogant, challenging. It was his show, and his reputation.

Brad did not rise to speak.

"I needn't introduce myself," he began. "We've all done our homework I'm sure, and you know as much about me as I do about each of you. So, to business."

Zolan rose, drew an instrumented rod from its niche at the base of the tank and brought up the quadrant that depicted the Special Zone. Manipulating keys along the rod, eyes on the tank, Zolan quickly brought the Logistics Depot in toward the core and increased magnification so that it occupied most of the tank space.

"The objective," Brad said, his voice flat and low.

A long silence, then from the far end of the table,
"What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that. We're going to take it."

A gasp, this time from his left, followed by, "You guys are out of your minds."

Feet shuffled on the grav-plates. Several among the seated were arranging themselves to rise and depart.

Brad waited.

The shuffling stopped. They were here to listen, not to commit.

Brad leaned forward, placed his forearms on the table, one hand over the other. His steady eyes moved from one face to the next.

"No," he said, "we're not out of our minds. We can do it, and our losses can be kept within acceptable limits if we work together. Furthermore, the Depot can be taken with minimum damage to its structures and to its Slingshot stores."

"What's the point?"

Brad looked at the questioner, a big man in a black and gray uniform and a soft helmet liner perched on the back of his head. Brad knew him through the phys-psy profiles he had studied before the meeting.

##

"Captain Yargoul," Brad said, "sooner or later the UIPS must accept that they no longer have mastery of space beyond the Belt."

Altering his tone to include all, he continued, "I needn't dwell on the obvious: our collective forces and Slingshot's distance from the UIPS places us in a far stronger position than we thought we would be at this time. I emphasize collective. On our own, any of us, individually as nations or in an alliance of satellites, wouldn't stand long against an organized assault by a UIPS battle fleet. But, collectively, we will not only resist them, we will win and take back full control of space throughout the Outer Region."

Eyes cold, voice gritty as space-sand, Brad tapped the tabletop.

"Having the power isn't enough. We've got to show it, and make it credible. Planet Pluto demonstrated what can be done with real power during Operation Tornado Six. I'm sure you're all familiar with that little exercise, and have studied the tactics."

Closed faces. The silence was broken with low but audible, "So have their tac ops people."

"Right, and we think they've concluded that INOR is in a strong position to run its territories and voids without any more interference from them. Also, that we can devise tactics and take initiatives that put them off balance and upset their Slingshot schedule. What we did in our legally contiguous space can be repeated elsewhere. The result is the end of UIPS dominance over its former colonies and space lanes."

Brad paused to preface his next words.

"You can continue to accept invasive UIPS traffic through your territorial and contiguous zones. You can do the same for their uninvited presence in your Exclusive Economic Zones even though the Laws of the Seas Conventions over the past several millennia expanded treaties to include or affirm each independent nation's rights. Or you can align with Planet Pluto, which is your right as a free and independent nation. Together — collectively — we can demand that the UIPS acknowledge INOR's jurisdiction in the Outer Region. INOR can back their demands with military power that the UIPS can no longer ignore."

There was a long silence, followed by, "What does the Log Depot have to do with it?"

"First, it's the closest, most politically vulnerable target within INOR's legitimate boundaries and jurisdictions. Second, control of the Depot equates to a strangle hold over construction progress and launch of the Slingshot terminals — which is life-or-death for the UIPS."

"…and not for the rest of us?"

"Not for centuries. If it ever really came to sheer survival, we'll outlast the UIPS. When they collapse we can move in and feed off their carcasses for a thousand years, if we have to. Meanwhile, we'll take over Slingshot and have it ready for the next launch window."

A hard-visaged warrior leaned forward in his chair, and shook his head slowly. "You're a callous son-of-a-bitch, Commander Curtin," he said, directing his eyes directly at Brad.

"Maybe so. I'm also a realist. If we play the game right, and show a united front, this confrontation won't escalate to major military actions. The UIPS has got to cross our space, there's no other way. Take the depot and we can force them to finish Slingshot, but with INOR playing a major role. It'll take some negotiating, but it's not likely that they'll shut down Slingshot."

"How will you take the Depot?"

"You mean, how will we take the Depot? Unfortunately, we can't repeat Tornado Six. That was a crisis we manufactured and ran all the way, a one-shot operation. We've come up with another strategy to take the Depot, and that's what this meeting is about. You're all in on the action."

"This is the first I've heard the Depot is to be taken," said Captain Yargoul, looking around. "What about the rest of you? Have your governments cleared this as a joint operation?"

Heads shook in the negative accompanied by shrugs and grunts. Unanimous.

Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

Brad leaned back in his chair both hands pressed against the table's edge, arms straight.

"Your governments have agreed to a united front against the UIPS, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Your Heads of State sent you. We're military men, not politicians or clever diplomats. What does that tell you?"

Silence.

"Then I'll say it. We're here to plan a military action. That's what we do. The decision on whether the plan is implemented is up to INOR politicians and diplomats. That's how they earn their keep. The target has been made known to you. Our immediate task is to assess the forces we will have available and operational to do the job. For that I need to know your capabilities, now and for the time they will be committed to the combined operations. Let's start with the Jovian System."

Brad fixed his eyes on Captain Yargoul.

Time stretched, no one moved. Finally, at a nod from Captain Yargoul, a gaunt spacer seated behind him reached into a pocket, withdrew a capsule and tossed it toward the front. It floated gracefully at Zolan in the light gravity. Zolan caught the capsule, turned, inserted it into a slot at the base of the tank and pressed a key on the rod.

The tank shimmered, cleared, and in rapid succession flashed images of battle cruisers, destroyers and support ships. Data unreeled across the lower section of the tank, listing ship's armament and ship's readiness rating.

The recording completed, Zolan withdrew the capsule and returned it in the same manner as received. Another floated toward him, preceded by a growl "Titan." The routine repeated, and within a short time, the major INOR platforms and weapons for a combined assault on the Logistics Depot had been recorded and rated for readiness.

When the last capsule had cleared the tank Zolan's fingers raced across the console's keypad and the screen recapped the inputs. The Logistics Depot reappeared high up in the tank wrapped in its protective cocoon, and lines of transports loading and off-loading cargoes or waiting their turns.

The scene contracted, and the vacated space filled with numbers and codes representing the few UIPS recon-patrollers in the Plutonian sector followed by a tabulation of INOR's combined assault fleet. The computer presented INOR's combined fleet's Order of Battle, and stabilized.

The assembled commanders, master strategists and tacticians all, pointed, commented, and proposed options on the employment of ships, formations and weapons. Zolan keyed their suggestions into the computer and the results appeared in the tank. Finally, there were no further options. Brad nodded.

"Mark it and distribute a copy to each Commander present," he said, and turned back to survey the group around the table. He waited.

Captain Yargoul cut the brief silence.

"What we have, so far, is a textbook tactical disposition of forces around a theoretical objective. The reality will depend on the strategic plan for the operation and what we expect will come