by Ian Douglas
“It is, in a way, quite a natural evolution,” Frank Lovell said. Lovell was another senator—representing the California District of the USNA. “The Man Who Saved Earth becomes the man who leads Earth!”
“Is that why President DuPont isn’t here?” Koenig asked.
“It was thought best that he recuse himself from these hearings,” Noyer said. “But, for the record, he is in agreement. His tenure as Senate president ends in nine months. At that time, we would like you to take over from him.”
“Madam Senator . . . I’m not a senator.”
“Not yet.” She nodded toward another woman at the conference table. “Senator Lloyd, of the USNA’s District of Pennsylvania, has agreed to step down. A special election will be held for her district, and with your current popularity with the public, especially in your home state, we expect that you will easily be elected. If not . . .” She shrugged. “There are other parliamentary procedures that will bring you on board. All we really need is your agreement.”
A memory forcefully and unpleasantly intruded itself—the sight and sound of that towering avatar of himself delivering a speech to the crowds at the eudaimonium the night before, speaking words, speaking platitudes that had little to do with his own beliefs or feelings.
The Senate president was not entirely a figurehead; he or she had the deciding vote in deadlocked sessions, and could veto legislation . . . though a simple majority vote was all that was required to overturn a veto. But the office was more window dressing than anything else, a human face for the public’s awareness of the putative world government. As president, he would have little more say in government policy decisions or affairs than he’d had with his electronic double’s speech last night.
“I am afraid, Madam Senator,” he said slowly, “that accepting would mean a considerable conflict of interest on my part.”
Noyer scowled at him, Lovell looked away, obviously uncomfortable, and other senators at the table began again whispering among themselves. “What conflict of interest?” Noyer demanded.
“Operation Crown Arrow, of course,” he said. “I do not agree with the policies of the Peace Faction, Madam Senator, and am convinced that Crown Arrow is the only viable alternative to complete capitulation.” He smiled at her. “I assume you, and most of the others at this table, are with the Peace Faction?”
“Some of us are,” she admitted. “But I’ll ask you to remember that the Confederation Senate does not utilize political parties, but seeks instead to find consensus among different possible solutions to political problems. I resent your assumption, Admiral, that this is a factional debate.”
Even, Koenig thought, if it was indeed just that.
Party politics—or the ancient division of political groups into factions with labels such as “conservative” or “liberal” were widely seen as corrupt—the old way of doing things, and one that had not, after all, worked very well. The two-party system of the old United States had collapsed centuries ago in scandal and corruption. Multi-party governments—some with as many as a hundred different competing political parties seeking to achieve short-lived balances and alliances—had failed when they became so complex that they could get nothing done. Political parties, as such, had been abandoned in favor of a general governing body seeking consensus.
But humans being humans, labels were still necessary. The Peace Faction, though not an established party, nonetheless was a convenient label for those members of the Senate determined to find common ground with the Sh’daar and bring an end to the three-and-a-half-decade-long Human-Sh’daar interstellar war.
“As a military man,” Noyer said, “I imagine you would have an objection to finding a peaceful settlement. The political realities of the situation, however, are quite different . . . as I’m sure you will learn in time.”
“As a military man,” Koenig replied, “I probably want peace more than you do . . . more, certainly, than you can possibly imagine. It is military personnel, I will point out, who suffer considerable discomfort and hardship and who all too often die in order to protect the civilian population at home.”
“If that’s true, Admiral, then you should be the first to embrace the Peace Faction’s agenda. An end to war . . . a war that many of us believe cannot be won. A war that could easily end in the utter extermination of the human species.”
“The price, Madam Senator, is too high.”
“Too high, for the survival of Humankind? I think not!”
“The Sh’daar Ultimatum,” Koenig said, “requires in effect the surrender of our technological growth to the Sh’daar or their agents. Surrendering our technological growth means the sacrifice of our economy. The entire history, the essence of our evolution and growth is the history of our technological advancement, from bone clubs and chipped-flint hand axes to starships and AIs, from fire to quantum power taps. Give up our inventiveness, Madam Senator, and we give up who we are, give up our own human nature.”
She gave a tight smile. “You make persuasive speeches, Admiral. I’m surprised you are not already a member of this body. As it happens, I fear that this Operation Crown Arrow of yours is going to be voted down. The members of the select Senate Military Directorate are, as might be expected, in favor of the idea . . . but in light of yesterday’s attack by the—what are they called? The H’rulka, yes—the majority of the senators in this body feel it necessary, vital, in fact, to keep the Confederation Fleet here in the Sol System, in order to protect Earth.”
“Really? And how do the Senators from Astrild feel about this? Or Dhakhan? Or Inti? Or Amaterasu? Or Chiron?”
“As I said, this body builds consensus among—”
“There are more senators from nations on Earth,” Koenig said, “than there are from all of the colony worlds put together, am I right? Each colony world, regardless of population, elects one senator to represent them here? I’d be most interested in how many of those two hundred and some extrasolar senators joined your consensus to essentially ignore the extrasolar colonies in order to defend Sol. That’s the idea, isn’t it, Senator? To let the Turusch and the Nungiirtok and the Gadareg pick off the extrasolar colonies one by one, until nothing is left to us but our own solar system?”
“Admiral Koenig, that is enough!” Noyer said, her voice rising to a shout. “It is not your place to lecture this body in this manner!”
“Let him speak, Eunice!” a lone voice cried from somewhere up in the auditorium.
“Si!” another vice added. “Me gustaria oir!”
Other voices joined in, coming too fast and too thick for the room’s translation system to handle all of the voices in a dozen different languages.
“Order on the chamber floor!” Noyer shouted. “Order, or we will have the chamber cleared!”
The voices died down, though an undercurrent of murmured conversation continued.
“Admiral,” Noyer said after a moment, “you obviously have no idea of the delicate balance involved in providing for the security of the people!”
“An excellent reason for me not to stand as Senate president, Madam Senator. It occurs to me that losing the colonial senators would consolidate the position of the Peace Faction by quite a large degree.”
“You are out of line, sir,” Senator Lloyd shouted.
“I am? I apologize. As Senator Noyer said, I don’t know what I’m doing.
“I do know this, however, speaking as a Confederation Star Navy admiral and as a star carrier battlegroup commander: appeasement never works. It just makes the bastards greedy for more. If you just wait for them to come, they will come, and they will keep coming until they’ve ground down the fleet to nothing, and they can walk in and take whatever they want.”
“Your remarks are out of order,” Noyer told him.
“No, Madam Senator, they are not. Please! You need to hear this! Hold to a defense-only strategy and a larger, m
ore technically advanced opponent will overrun you, sooner or later! The only way to avoid disaster is to take the fight to the enemy!”
“This hearing,” Noyer said, “is adjourned. Thank you for coming, Admiral. I am truly sorry that our . . . philosophies did not better agree.”
“Madam Senator!” a voice called from the audience. “Point of order!”
“What?”
“You must move to adjourn!”
“Very well. Move to adjourn. Do I have a second?”
“Madam Senator,” Koenig said.
“You are not a member of this commission, Admiral. You cannot second.”
“I have one more statement before you close.”
She hesitated, as though weighing the advisability of letting Koenig say anything more. This hearing, evidently, had gone badly for Noyer, and she would be trying to salvage from it what she could.
“Very well. What is it?”
“Only this: ‘Those who would give up essential liberty, to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.’ ”
“The sentiments of some military leader?”
“No, Madam Senator. A statement attributed to a member of the very first congress of the original United States: Benjamin Franklin.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“Then, to quote another philosopher . . . you are condemned to repeat the mistakes of the past.”
“Second the move to adjourn, Senator Noyer,” Lloyd said.
“Moved and seconded. This hearing is adjourned.”
An hour later, Koenig sat alone at a sidewalk cafe several blocks from the ConGov pyramid, drinking coffee with Admiral Carruthers and Captain Gregory. Koenig’s own aides had been sent back to Bern and the waiting admiral’s barge. He would be returning to the America that afternoon, but he wanted to talk with Carruthers first.
“I can’t talk about what happened in there,” Koenig told them. “They slapped me with a secmon.”
The security monitor would warn him if he violated certain programmed security rules or agreements . . . and report him if he broke them.
“They’re being a bit heavy-handed with the security issues, aren’t they?”
“Let’s just say that what happened this morning might be construed as an embarrassment.”
Carruthers laughed. “You could put it that way.”
“You were there?”
“No. But friends were. Friends who weren’t forced to carry a secmon. Damn, but that’s insulting!”
Koenig shrugged. “They’re trying to protect their asses. So far as I can tell, that’s the number-one entry in any politician’s job description.”
“I’d hoped to talk with you before the meeting,” Carruthers told him.
“I thought as much, when I saw Captain Gregory here, at the spaceport.”
“Security was very tight,” she admitted.
“Senator Andrews was very impressed with your argument.”
“Andrews?”
“The honorable senator from Osiris,” Gregory said. “That’s 70 Ophiuchi A II.”
“Osiris is concerned that they’re next on the Sh’daar hit list,” Admiral Carruthers added, “and with some justification, evidently.”
“Ah. Was he the one who called out?”
Carruthers smiled. “Nope. That was Senator Kristofferson, of Cerridwen. Believe me when I say, Admiral, that we have a lot of support in the Senate for Crown Arrow.”
“You wouldn’t know it from the tone in there this morning.”
“A stacked deck, Admiral. Even so, a fair number of hawks were able to attend as members of the audience. The meeting was supposed to be a closed session, but some of them got wind of it ahead of time and forced the issue under the transparency initiatives.”
Transparency, Koenig knew, had been a major issue in political machinations for centuries. Someone always wanted to pull off important votes without opponents to the issue being present; and those opponents were always trying to make the processes of government more candid, more open to the public.
Except, of course, when it was better the public not know. Koenig despaired of the games governments played.
Koenig felt a sharp pang at his temple. He raised his hand and rubbed the spot. “I’ve just received a warning that I really shouldn’t be discussing this stuff, Admiral.”
“I understand. They should be able to do something about that on board ship.”
“I was just thinking that, sir.”
“You can tell us this much,” Carruthers said. “What are you supposed to do now?”
“I go back on board America and resume command of CBG–18,” Koenig told them. “I got the idea, though, that Madam Senator Noyer was not happy with my performance. She may want to beach me.”
“That won’t happen,” Carruthers told him. “The hero of the Defense of Earth, on the beach? Uh-uh. The Military Directorate has direct jurisdiction in any case, and right now they’re solidly on your side. If the Peace Faction tries something behind closed doors, they’ll force an open vote, and Noyer and her people can’t risk that yet.”
“Okay. I retain command of the battlegroup. We still can’t afford a defense-only war.”
“No,” Carruthers said. “We can’t. But with the right people on the Military Directorate oversight board, I think we can manage . . . a compromise.”
“A compromise? What compromise?”
“This time I’m going to pretend I have a secmon. Go back to your carrier and stand by. I may have new orders for you in a couple of days.”
Koenig sighed. “You’re the boss, Admiral.”
“When it comes to the Navy,” Carruthers said, smiling, “Yes. Yes, I am.” He raised his coffee cup toward Koenig. “Salud.”
Chapter Nine
27 December 2404
Admiral’s Office, TC/USNA CVS America
Earth Synchorbit, Sol System
1015 hours, TFT
It wasn’t “a couple of days,” in fact, but almost a full week before Koenig received his new orders. Captain Gregory delivered them in person to Koenig in his office on board the America.
“So,” he said as she walked into the compartment. “What’s the verdict? Am I on the beach?”
His office was in the outer layer of the carrier’s rotating hab modules, and so enjoyed the relative comfort of a half G of spin gravity. He gestured over a control interface to grow her a chair, and she sank back into it.
“Thank you, sir. No . . . not the beach. Not this time.”
Koenig’s heart quickened a bit. “Crown Arrow is on, then?”
Gregory made a face. “It is . . . though you may not like what some of the politicos did to it. Here . . . you should see the orders for yourself.”
She palmed a contact surface on his desk, transferring the orders. He put his own palm on a contact, and opened them in his mind.
JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF
TERRAN CONFEDERATION MILITARY COMMAND
0930 HR 27 DEC 2404
FROM: ADMIRAL OF THE FLEET JOHN C. CARRUTHERS
TO: ADMIRAL ALEXANDER KOENIG, COMMANDER CBG–18
VIA: COMM UPLINK 7892, GENEVA
SECLAS: GREEN DIADEM/PRIORITY BRAVO
ATTACHMENT: JCS DIR75756: OPPLAN CROWN ARROW, REVISION 2.6
SUBJ: CBG DEPLOYMENT
1. YOU ARE DIRECTED TO ASSEMBLE CBG–18 AT FLEET RENDEZVOUS PERCIVAL ON OR BEFORE 5 JAN 2405, OR AS SOON AS PROVISIONING AND RESUPPLY FOR AN EXTENDED VOYAGE OF AT LEAST SEVEN MONTHS IS COMPLETE.
2. YOU WILL AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS AT FR PERCIVAL. ADDITIONAL FLOTILLAS WILL JOIN YOU AT THE RENDEZVOUS POINT.
3. THE REINFORCED BATTLEGROUP WILL BE REDESIGNATED TASK GROUP Terra.
4. ON OR BEFORE 9 JAN 2405, TASK GROUP TERRA WILL INITIATE DEEP-SPACE OP
ERATIONS AGAINST ENEMY BASES AND VESSELS IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE PROVISIONS OF OPERATIONS PLAN CROWN ARROW, AS OUTLINED IN JCS DIR75756 [ATTACHED].
[SIGNED]
JOHN C. CARRUTHERS, ADMIRAL OF THE FLEET
BY ORDER OF
THE CONFEDERATION JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF
Best we could do, Alex.—J.C.
The personal note appended to the end of the orders startled Koenig. He opened the attachment, and scrolled down through the oplan.
It was not, he decided, as bad as it could have been. Koenig’s original operations plan, as he’d presented it to the JCS, called for a strike force composed of at least 5 star carriers and their attendant battlegroups . . . which would have meant a supporting fleet of 20 to 25 cruisers and heavy cruisers; 10 of the faster and more nimble battlecruisers; 5 railgun cruisers or battleships; and at least 50 destroyers, frigates, and escorts. Add to that one Marine Starforce Unit, which would amount to another two light carriers, landing ships of various calibers, and some twelve thousand Marines, and the entire fleet would have numbered over 112 vessels.
Although that had been Koenig’s suggested fleet strength, he’d known that the chances of having those ships given to him were remote in the extreme. The total—112 warships—was very roughly one quarter of the Confederation’s total Navy strength, and roughly half what was normally stationed just within the Sol System. The Senate, he knew, would never allow the Sol System’s defenses to be stripped to that degree.
And, in fact, that had obviously been the case. The JCS and the Military Directorate had scaled back Koenig’s dreamsheet considerably. The task group would be built around just one carrier battlegroup: America’s, reinforced by some 10 additional ships. MSU–17 would join the fleet at Point Percival, adding two light carriers to the force—Nassau and Vera Cruz—plus 10 support vessels. It appeared that the task group would include no more than 35 warships altogether.
Thirty-five ships to carry the war to the enemy.
He looked up at Captain Gregory. “Why the worried face, Captain? This looks pretty good.”
“Admiral Carruthers thought you would be . . . disappointed.”
