"I'm on screen at the moment," I reminded her, nettled. She knew this was not the time for an interruption.
"This may be relevant, sir."
I caught her tone. I heeded it. "Premier, if you will pardon me one moment..." I said quickly in Spanish.
Seven seconds later the premier made a gesture of unconcern. But I was already inspecting the intruder. He was a man of about thirty, wearing ill-fitting Navy fatigues that had evidently been borrowed recently. Probably his own clothing had been taken by my security crew, to be quite sure he had nothing that could harm me.
"Admiral, I am from North Saturn," he said in Russian.
I looked suitably baffled, though, as it happens, I do speak the language. It was not at that time a talent I wanted to advertise. "English," I said. "Can you speak English? ¿Español?"
"I—from Saturn," he said haltingly in English. "Infor—information. Interest you."
"Perhaps," I agreed guardedly. "But right now I'm in the middle of a call."
"About cargo—ship." I could tell that he believed that what he had to tell me was vitally important, and I knew that my personnel, including Shelia, had shunted him on up to me as rapidly as possible.
"The ship?" I asked, my pulse quickening. "The one now approaching Ganymede?"
"Think—so," he agreed. "I—technician on special equipment. Control brain—distance. Very new."
"Mind control—without drugs?" I asked, beginning to see the relevance. "Take over people without touching them?"
He nodded vigorously. "Experimental—but effective. Sent to Ganymede."
With new surmise I returned my gaze to the screen. "Premier, if not arms, what about experimental equipment?" I demanded. "To subvert our agents without leaving any telltale drug traces or brain-wave distortions?"
"Absolutely not, Señor!" he exclaimed indignantly. "How can you believe a defector? He would say anything to gain a rich reward from Jupiter!"
"Or the locks at Tanamo," I said, as if just tuning in on something new. "Presently coded to our personnel, though under Ganymedan suzerainty. If those personnel could be subverted by such a device without our knowledge—" My expression abruptly hardened. "Premier, what the hell are you pulling?"
"All a mistake!" the premier exclaimed. "A lie, to sully Ganymede!"
"Then you won't object to allowing our personnel to board and inspect that Saturn ship before it docks," I said. "To verify that what you say is true, Señor Premier."
"It is a Saturn ship!" he protested. "Only the Saturn authorities can permit that! But I'm sure that if you apply to them, they will be happy to assuage your doubt."
"Señor, I mean to inspect that ship before it docks!" I said. "Will you deny docking clearance until this is accomplished?"
"I cannot do that!" he countered desperately. "Saturn is the ally of Ganymede! But I assure you, Señor—"
I cut him off with a Spanish expletive that related to the manner in which he pained my genital member. I returned to the defector. "What details can you provide?"
He provided what he could. Soon I was satisfied that Saturn was doing research of the nature described and did plan to use it to corrupt the agents of other planets. Whether this was the equipment actually on the present ship was uncertain, but it did provide us with what we vitally needed: the alternate source of information right at the critical moment. Now we could act without implicating the premier of Ganymede. Indeed, on the record, the premier had done his best to conceal the information from us.
Later I learned that QYV had been responsible for producing the defector at the critical moment. I was glad I had put Reba in charge; she had really helped me that time.
We spirited the defector away to a safe and comfortable hiding place and contacted Saturn. Naturally their bureaucracy stalled. They didn't deny our demand, they merely ran it through their labyrinthine channels. It was obvious that nothing would be accomplished within the day's time required for the ship to arrive and dock.
I cut that short by putting through a hotline call directly to the Chairman of the Council of Ministers of Saturn, Comrade Karzhinov. Any call to Saturn, under optimum conditions, requires a minimum of half an hour, because the orbit of that planet is more than four astronomical units from the orbit of Jupiter, and, of course, one astronomical unit is the archaic measure of Earth's distance from the sun, or about eight and a third light minutes. Normally Saturn is farther from Jupiter than that, depending on the planets' positions within those orbits; at its worst, the separation can be about fifteen astronomical units, or over two hours' one-way signal time. It has been claimed that this slowness of communication is responsible for the deteriorating relations between the two, but I regard that as nonsense. After all, Uranus is never closer than fourteen astronomical units to Jupiter, yet our relations with that planet generally have been good. No, it is political, not spatial, relations that generate the problem.
But while we were expending the hours required to contact Karzhinov directly, that Saturn ship was still proceeding to Ganymede. I'm not sure what the Saturn day-night cycle was at that time relative to ours or how long it took the North Saturn leader to read my message and formulate his reply. Probably he took time to consult his advisers. Thus it was about ten hours before I heard from him. I did not stand on one foot waiting; I retired and slept and handled the onrushing routine.
Then, when the ship was within twelve hours of Ganymede, I received Karzhinov's response. It was terse and to the point: The ship was a Saturn freighter, not subject to our interference, and we would respect its integrity or pay the price.
Spirit and I exchanged a glance. "He's toughing it out," she said. "He knows that by the time we exchange many more messages, the ship will have docked."
"He thinks I am made of putty," I said. Putty is a concept derived from the nature of a substance once used to caulk windows; it deforms readily under pressure.
"Saturn does not respect putty," she said.
"Then let's up the ante. We have time for one more exchange, at this rate, before that ship docks. What can we do to dispel the putty image?"
"We can put the Navy on Full Alert."
I pursed my lips. There have been various procedures over the centuries for the preparation for action, with various names and codes. At present Alert meant that the Navy would be marshaling for possible battle. It did not signal war, but it was not a thing that was done without reason. We had invoked a partial Alert when we oriented on Ganymede; a Full Alert would involve all our ships disposed around the Solar System, including those in Saturn Space. That could be construed as menacing. Certainly it would signal the seriousness with which we viewed the present situation.
"Do it," I said.
Shelia made the call. Within a minute Emerald's dark face was on the main screen. "You sure, Tyrant?" she demanded.
"Full Alert," I repeated.
"Done. It will take awhile for it to be effective in the farther reaches. To what extent do we grant local autonomy?"
Because when it required four hours to send a signal to a ship in the Neptune region, the admiral in charge there could not necessarily afford to wait eight hours for the answer to any query.
"Limited," I said. "I don't want some fool starting SWIII on his own itch."
"Just see that he doesn't start it right here," she replied, smiling grimly as she faded out.
I smiled in return, though the screen was now blank. Emerald had called on a private beam, but we both knew that the transmission would be intercepted, recorded, and decoded by Saturn agents. She knew I was making a gesture for Saturn to interpret, in the game of hints and signals that interplanetary relations was. Her informality suggested that we did not know we would be tapped, and her remark about the possibility of accidentally launching Solar System War Three suggested that I had that potential. It would not be a comfortable interpretation for the Saturn experts—and that was good. I wanted them to become uncertain. How well Emerald still understood me!
"So much for the
indirect message to Saturn," Spirit said. "Now for the direct one. What tone do we assume?"
"A reasonable one," I decided. "We have information that that ship is transporting equipment that threatens the security of Jupiter, and we cannot allow it to dock. They must turn it back to Saturn or suffer the consequence."
"And our closest ships will simultaneously orient for firing on that ship," she agreed. "We remain out of range, but we can make quite a show."
"Do it," I agreed.
This time the Saturn response came in four hours: To fire on that ship would be an act of war, and Saturn would not be responsible for the consequence.
"They're still toughing it out," Spirit said. "They are sure you'll back down."
"Do you think they'll go to war over one ship?" I asked.
"I doubt it. They don't want war, they want the critical advantage that a converted Tanamo base would provide."
"Then let's fire on that ship."
She frowned. "Um, let's keep within protocol. We have time for one more exchange of messages before it docks. We can send an ultimatum, and if they don't respond by the deadline, then we shall be justified in taking action. In that time our ships will get that much closer, and their fire correspondingly more accurate. We might be able to take the ship out."
We did it. Knowing that a difficult period was coming up, I took a nap. This might seem strange, but I had been in combat and knew the importance of being properly rested. I had learned decades ago to sleep when I needed to. I would have done so that first night after I assumed power, had Coral not forced the issue. But it had been more comfortable letting her handle it, as I am sure any man would agree.
The response from Karzhinov came just two hours before the docking, and it was blunt indeed. It translated: "Do not interfere with ship. Saturn will retaliate."
Spirit sighed. "They simply won't take us seriously! We have no alternative but to do it."
"Remember when we delivered ultimatums to pirates?" I asked her. For though I regarded pirates as the scum of the System and hated the entire breed ever since they had slain our father, I had tried to be fair. This was not so much for their benefit, as for my own: I needed to believe in the justness of my cause and the rightness of my actions. Just as I did now.
"We did have to kill a number of them," she reminded me.
It was my turn to sigh. I have never liked killing, but I have done it when necessary. I was prepared to do it again.
We contacted Emerald and gave the order. The Navy ships opened fire.
The attack failed; the range was still too great. But there was a virtual explosion nevertheless.
First there was a call from the premier of Ganymede. "Tyrant Hubris, you are attacking Ganymede territory!" he protested.
"Correction," I said. "We are firing on a Saturn ship that our intelligence informs us is a threat to Jupiter. Its location at the moment is coincidental."
"You are violating Ganymede space! I demand that you desist instantly!"
"Turn over that Saturn ship and we'll desist," I replied.
"But I have no authority over a Saturn vessel!"
"Then deny it clearance to dock. It will have to return to Saturn."
He looked truly pained, though, of course, this was what he most wanted to do. That ship represented disaster for him as well as for Jupiter. But he could not express his true sentiment. "Saturn is Ganymede's ally and benefactor! I cannot insult Saturn in this manner!"
My expression hardened. "I had thought that relations between Jupiter and Ganymede were improving. We maintain embassies. We buy your sugar. Now I learn that you have deceived me, Premier. You have tried to bring in technicians to make Tanamo an enemy military base. This is a dagger at Jupiter's heart and a betrayal of my personal trust."
His protest was already coming in, crossing with my harangue. I overrode it, lapsing into Spanish in my supposed rage. "I arranged the transfer of that base!" I roared. "I trusted your sincerity! And how do you repay my trust, you dog's penis? You try to convert it to a Saturn missile base! You try to destroy me, just as I come into power in Jupiter!"
"...only supplies, I swear!" he was saying in English. "No arms, no special equipment, only food and tools for our agriculture!"
Then, as I paused, my Spanish outburst caught up to him. He changed to Spanish himself. "You eater of sweet rolls!" he cried, reddening in the face. I should clarify that in the Gany dialect of Spanish, a certain type of food becomes the vernacular for the female genital and is not spoken as a compliment. "You fire into my space, violating interplanetary protocol, and dare to accuse me of bad faith? You look for a pretext to invade our planet and make it a Jupiter colony! But do you know what will happen if you do that, Señor animal fornicator? Twenty thousand gringos will die!"
I cut off the contact, then settled back, laughing. "He understands, all right," I said.
"He had better," Spirit said. "We're going to have to invade Ganymede, you know."
"With about twenty thousand troops," I agreed. "But with lasers set at stun only."
"The Saturn forces there won't set theirs at stun," she said.
"He'll keep them clear. Ganymede is not our worry. Saturn is."
"Saturn is," she agreed. "If Karzhinov doesn't bluff, we really will be in Ess-Doubleyou-Three."
That sobered me. "We have to risk it, though."
"Sir," Shelia said.
"Put him on," I said.
It was, as I had anticipated, the ambassador from Saturn. There was no delay in transmissions here, because he was in New Wash. "I must sternly inquire as to the meaning of this outrage," he said.
"The meaning is that Saturn is trying to change the locks on Tanamo Base on Ganymede, and the premier of Ganymede is playing along," I said severely. "This cannot and shall not be permitted. Your ship must turn back before docking or we shall take more specific action."
"It is only a supply ship!" he protested.
"Guarded by a killer sub," I said. "Why are you so protective of this particular ship? A true supply ship has no fear of inspections."
"This is preposterous!"
"I agree. Turn back the ship."
"But I have no authority to—"
"Then don't waste my time." I cut him off.
The ship did not stop. We remained unable to knock it out at long distance; we would have had to launch a CT missile at Ganymede itself to take it out, and I was not prepared to do that.
"Ganymede is organizing to repel invasion," Spirit said.
"Invade," I agreed. "But watch Saturn."
"Emerald's on it."
We tracked Saturn's ships in the Jupiter sphere. They were now on alert. Ours moved into position to oppose them, even as Saturn ships defending Saturn moved to counter our formation there. Indeed the invasion of Ganymede might be a joke, but the siege of Saturn was not. If any missile was fired at a Jupiter city—
Now the White Bubble was deluged with calls from our own population. We had not censored the news; the people were catching on that real trouble was brewing.
"Sir, you may want to watch this," Shelia said, and put on a local interview.
It was Thorley, my most eloquent critic, speaking editorially. The startling thing was who was in the background: my daughter Hopie. Evidently she had been consulting him about the prospects for education when both were caught by the Saturn crisis, and the pickup caught them both.
"That will make tongues wag!" Spirit murmured.
"...seems to be madness," Thorley was saying. "There is no reputable evidence I know of that the Saturn ship carries contraband, and to launch an attack on the mere suspicion—"
"My father's not mad!" Hopie exclaimed. "He always has good reason for what he does!"
Thorley gave a wry smile. "Such as appointing a child to be in charge of education?"
"He told me I could do the job if I got the best advice!"
He shook his head. "Mayhap he is but mad north-northwest; when the wind is southerly, he knows a ha
wk from a handsaw." He returned to the camera, smiling in the eloquently rueful way he had. "It seems the Tyrant sent his daughter to me for advice."
I heard someone laugh; it was Shelia, losing her composure for the moment. Thorley was, as I mentioned, my most effective critic, but it was impossible not to like him.
"...yet it remains difficult to see the logic in such brinksmanship," Thorley was continuing. "In a matter of hours the Tyrant has brought us closer to the brink of holocaust than has been the case in twenty years. I am, candidly, appalled."
Then we had to return to the business at hand. Another message had arrived from Chairman Karzhinov.
"Madness!" he exclaimed, as if echoing Thorley. Actually the word was that of the translator, for Karzhinov did not speak English and did not know that I spoke Russian. "You are committing an act of war! Desist or we must react!"
"Send a bread-and-butter note," I told Shelia. She looked pale, but she got on it: a routine repetition of our demand that the ship not dock. Of course, it would be too late by the time that message reached Saturn, but it maintained contact. I wanted it clear that we had reason for our action and that only a Saturnian backdown would avert catastrophe.
But the ship did dock. Our invasion force moved into position, Tanamo the obvious target. We wanted no confusion on the part of the premier of Ganymede; he had to know precisely where and when we would land.
I looked about me during a lull in the activity, if not the tension. Ebony was there, having reverted to gofer status for the crisis. She looked as pale as a Black woman could. I raised an eyebrow at her.
"Sir, how do they know not to shoot?" she asked. "You sent no message. After the way you yelled at the premier—"
"The premier and I understand each other," I said.
"But—"
"Any message of that nature would be intercepted," I explained. "Therefore there has to be no message. But the premier knows what he has to do, as do I."
"But the Saturn fleet—"
"Do you happen to know who commands the Jupiter-sphere division of the Saturn fleet?"
Wordlessly she shook her head.
"Admiral Khukov."
"Oh! We know him—"
Anthony, Piers - Tyrant 4 - Executive Page 9
