Double Spiral War Trilogy

by Warren Norwood

  The slow motion effects demanded a concentration which focused each of them on the other’s most subtle movements. Their nerves seemed more highly tuned in weightlessness. Like dancers in some private, erotic ballet, they moved in a harmony all their own, turning, bending, spinning toward the center of their love. There they flew together in a tightening spiral of sensuous joy until first one and then the other was consumed in the white-hot blindness of release.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Captain Gilbert and General Mari walked down the long hall to the Command Center in a silence broken only by the soft sounds of their hyleather boots on the polished floors.

  Mica Gilbert felt too good to be disturbed by General Mari’s bad mood. Her father was safe. He and the Polar Fleet had escaped relatively unscathed. Apparently the Ukes didn’t think the polar systems important enough to concentrate their energies there. The scattered attacks had seemed designed more to demoralize than to severely cripple the systems.

  In that sense they had probably been effective. Already there were demands from Eresser, Hilldill, and Lindshaw for increases in the Polar Fleet and a doubling of the systems’ garrisons. Those demands were part of the political uproar which now required General Mari’s and Mica’s presence in the Command Center.

  “You don’t have to take any rads from these people, Captain,” General Mari said suddenly. “And if they try to pull you into the political argument with questions that don’t apply to your area, you duck them. You understand?”

  “Perfectly, sir. But what could they ask me that –“

  “Don’t you worry, Captain. They’re liable to try to ask you anything. You just talk about facts and leave the rest of it to someone else.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mica said quietly, as she suppressed the urge to ask more questions. She was all too aware of what politics could do to a military career. Her father had been shunted off to the Polar Fleet for what had been termed “unorthodox political values” – meaning that he had wanted an alliance with the aliens of the Castorian systems. None of the parties in power in Sondak nor even the Castorians themselves had approved of his suggestions. So despite an outstanding military record, Admiral Josiah Gilbert had been given an insignificant command – insignificant until the Ukes had pulled their surprise attacks.

  When they entered the Command Center auditorium, Mica was startled by the number of civilians present. She had expected a hundred or so of the leaders of government and the political parties. But the Center’s auditorium seated close to a thousand people, and it was packed with civilians from the TriCameral and the Combined Committees, all wearing security collars locked tightly around their necks. The three tiers of seats facing the civilians were only sparsely filled by military personnel. Anyone who did not absolutely need to be there was performing double duty so that the others could attend.

  “Stay close,” Mari said over his shoulder as they made their way through the crowd.

  Mica did as she was told, for once glad of Mari’s presence and his rank. People cleared a way for them almost as though an invisible bodyguard was parting the crowd. Too many people had seen or heard stories about Mari’s temper to want to slow him down. The scowl on his face did nothing to encourage those who did not know about his temper. But even with General Mari leading the way. Mica felt very much alone in the room until she spotted Commander Rochmon as they climbed the steps to the uppermost tier of seats.

  “General. Captain,” Rochmon said with a salute for Mari and a return salute for Mica Gilbert. “I think the civies are restless.”

  Mari snorted with a half-smile. “That is the understatement of the day, Rochmon. They’re going to want blood before the meeting is over. You interested in donating?”

  “Not me, General. I don’t have any. Just ask my staff.”

  “Scuttlebutt says you grind them so hard they can’t say anything,” Mica said with a straight face.

  General Mari snorted again. “She’s got your ID, Rochmon. Better never let her on your staff. She’ll grind you right back”

  “Might take my rough edges off,” Rochmon said with a smile.

  Mica had learned at the academy not to blush, but verbal interplay with Rochmon always gave her a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. As one of her father’s protégés, he had known her since she was in prep school and he was the handsome young staff officer who had delighted in making her blush. He was still handsome.

  “Where’s Admiral Stonefield?” General Mari asked.

  “On his way, sir,” Rochmon replied, “and madder than a crazed Castorian, according to his aide.”

  “Makes two of us,” Mari said as he took his seat.

  “Or a thousand,” Rochmon offered with a smile and a slight nod of his head toward the politicians.

  For the first time since she had joined General Mari for breakfast that morning, Mica saw him smile with pleasure. He’s going to enjoy this confrontation, she thought. As they waited for the arrival of Admiral Stonefield, she wondered if that was a sign of strength in Mari or a sign of weakness.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Ayne Wallen looked up from the screen with a sigh. “No good. No good. No good,” he said with a weariness that showed only in his voice.

  “It’s only the first stage,” Sjean said from behind him. “You need to get some rest before you can evaluate those results with any degree of certainty.”

  “No happy morning wake-up can improve these numbers. We be telling you, Sjean, this is not good approach.”

  Sjean stepped up closer and looked over his shoulder at the screen, “What’s wrong with those numbers?”

  “Everything. They be showing complex variation sixty times allowable magnitude.”

  “Maybe you inverted the constant.”

  “Maybe moons made of dianthia blossoms. Constant is right. Action at a distance is wrong. Cannot be done.”

  “Can be done,” she said, mimicking his accent. “Can be done, and we will do it. Drautzlab will do it. The ultimate weapon, Ayne, the weapon Sondak will use to put an end to all fighting, all war throughout the galaxy.”

  “Wonderful name,” he said sarcastically, “ultimate weapon. Perfect for leading to ultimate death. Unfortunately, ultimate problem is that ultimate weapon will not work.”

  “Guntteray’s theory says it will.”

  “Guntteray was a philosopher, not scientist.”

  “Guntteray was a brilliant man, Ayne, scientist or not. But If you’re such a nonbeliever, why did you join this project? I know for a fact that Caugust offered you a choice of –“

  “Joined for challenge. Challenge finished. Guntteray’s theory is likely true as chances you will bed me.”

  No matter what the subject, Ayne managed to work in some reference to the fact that she refused to bed him. It did not matter to him that she morally opposed such bedding. He ignored her argument that bedding between co-workers made for bad work, and he did not appear to care that she was fifteen years his senior and only one year a widow. Ayne openly lusted after her without apology and without relief. Were he not such a fine scientist – and one whom Caugust had worked hard to recruit – she would have had him removed from the project.

  Sjean frowned. Regardless of his impeccable credentials and his famous dissertation on spacetime, she was rapidly losing her respect for Ayne. Yet she found him attractive in his own bizarre way. “The theory holds. Try the numbers again using Planck’s constant in place of Hareshi’s.”

  With a scowl of disgust Ayne said, “Planck’s constant is bad number – sloppy, crude, mushy number.”

  “No one asked your opinion of it.”

  “Opinion holds. Is bad number.”

  “Use it anyway.” Without waiting for a response, Sjean turned and left the room.

  Ayne cursed softly in his native Tyawese as he placed his fingers on the keyboard and called up the initial formulas. Planck’s constant was a number for children playing math games. Guntteray’s theory was a fantasy. Instantaneous action
at a distance was a joke. But Sjean Birkie transcended all the traditional objections to continuing with this stupid project.

  He would show her he was right. Then he would take advantage of her moment of disappointment to comfort her – and bed her. He would show her what the ultimate weapon really was.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Delightful Childe wrapped seven fingers of one hand around his proboscis and stroked its soft ridges thoughtfully. Those who knew him well recognized the mannerism as one which indicated deep concern. Indeed, Delightful Childe was in a quandary. He was a neutral space merchant temporarily representing Sondak. But by a gross stroke of ill luck, he had captured the UCS scientific station on a miserable little planet called Alexvieux Five.

  Captured wasn’t exactly the right word. After he had landed the Nazzarone in response to an emergency beacon, he had informed the scientists that he was a temporary representative of Sondak. The station chief, a Dr. Hachihaguri, had then inexplicably surrendered the scientists and the station to Delightful Childe and his crew.

  Only then did Delightful Childe learn that a war had started between Sondak and the UCS. Apparently some difficulty caused by their war had delayed or diverted the supplies which should have arrived on Alexvieux months before. Dr. Hachihaguri and the four hundred-odd Chadiverians manning the station were on the verge of starvation. The muddled human logic which had led them to surrender only deepened Delightful Childe’s dilemma.

  As a neutral Oinaisehe was obligated only to render whatever immediate assistance he could under the circumstances, and then he would be free to depart. This he had done, grateful that Nazzarone had more than enough capacity to feed four hundred extra mouths.

  In order to represent Sondak, he had signed a contract that stated in its sub-subclauses that he would render no assistance to any enemy of Sondak during time of war. These sub-subclauses he had chosen to ignore, basing his decision to do so on the tenets of a higher moral law.

  The difficulty arose, however, in what to do next. His ship could produce enough food day in and day out to feed Dr. Hachihaguri and his people indefinitely. But Nazzarone had on hand supplies which would last the poor scientists of Alexvieux no more than a month at best.

  If Delightful Childe gave them those supplies and left to complete his contract with Sondak, what would happen to these people? Suppose their resupply ships never came? He might be condemning them to a slow death. But with this stupid war now going on, if he sent a message to the nearest UCS post, what guarantees would he have that…

  With a sigh Delightful Childe touched his throatone. “Please send Dr. Hachihaguri to me at once.”

  Several minutes later the short, plump human was escorted into the office by a crew member. “Greetings, Benevolent One,” Hachihaguri said with a low bow.

  “Greetings, Doctor. Please be seated.”

  “You are most kind, Benevolent One,” Hachihaguri said as he tried to make himself comfortable on the edge of a basee that was obviously too high off the deck for him.

  “I would rather that you stop calling me that,” Delightful Childe said firmly.

  “Most certainly, ah...Honored Sir. I have no wish to displease my captor.”

  “I am not your captor!” Delightful Childe screamed in Vardequerqueglot. Then he caught himself and switched back to UC standard. “Forgive me, Doctor. It is against my honor to raise my voice to you. But I am caught between a barb and a hook, and your insistence on titles does nothing to alleviate my discomfort.”

  “My apologies, Merchant Captain,” Hachihaguri said with an awkward bow that almost caused him to fall off the basee. “However, is it not true that you have been benevolent to us?”

  “No. I have only done my moral duty.”

  “To do such duty is to be benevolent by definition.”

  “That does not mean that you have to call me that.”

  “As you wish. However, did you not accept our surrender?”

  “I accepted your needs as an obligation to be fulfilled, nothing more than that. I am not your captor. In fact, I called you here to help me determine how we can best ensure that you will be able to get back to Chadiver.”

  “You could take us, Merchant Captain.”

  “I cannot. I am under contract to the government of Sondak.”

  “You could use your long band transmitter to send for assistance.”

  “What if that assistance does not come? Should I just leave you here to die?”

  “That is what we were doing before you came. We can do it again if necessary.”

  Delightful Childe snorted in frustration.

  The vibrato sound caused Hachihaguri to throw his hands over his ears. “Stop! Please!”

  “Then help me, human! We have a mutual problem that begs to be solved.”

  Slowly Hachihaguri lowered his hands and stared at Delightful Childe’s deeply wrinkled face with its long pale snout. “I have been cooperating as best as I know how, Merchant Captain. It is not clear to me how I may do more.”

  “I believe you, Doctor. Again I must ask your forgiveness – and your further cooperation,” he continued before Hachihaguri could answer. “Is there any way you and your people could sustain yourselves here?”

  The human rubbed the back of one tiny hand against his prominent chin bone. “If we had the proper equipment,” he said after a long pause, “ and, of course, sufficient weapons with which to hunt our food, then, yes, we could make such an attempt.”

  “There is no way I can give you weapons. You know that. What other kinds of equipment would you need?”

  “Colonial tools,” Hachihaguri said simply, “things I am sure you do not have – tillers, seeds, fertilizers, enzymes, planthuts – things like that.”

  Delightful Childe bared two rows of blunt, yellow teeth on both sides of his proboscis. “Do not underestimate the Nazzarone, Doctor. We might, in fact, be able to supply you with many of those things.”

  “We will still need weapons,” Hachihaguri said flatly.

  “I told you that was impossible.”

  “Then we cannot sustain ourselves.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the only sources we would have for the necessary trace elements in our would be what we can kill and grow. The soil of this planet is too poor to provide those for us in sufficient quantities through the plants. That is why there is no colony here. Only in animal flesh can we find suitable concentrations of those elements. Even then, only the largest of the carnivores are really useful – “

  “Why?”

  Hachihaguri looked at the Oinaise captain as though searching for an answer. “Because the largest carnivores eat smaller ones, which eat smaller ones, which eat herbivores. In each instance the concentration of trace elements in the muscles of the dominant beasts is greatly increased. The musterroon weigh better than one ton apiece. In order for each of my people to survive on Alexvieux, they will each have to consume approximately two kilograms of musterroon meat per day. That will take a lot of hunting.”

  “Then we are at an impasse,” Delightful Childe said calmly. “We cannot rescue. We cannot render you aid which will ensure your survival after we leave. Most certainly we cannot abandon you to a slow death. Nor can we stay indefinitely and feed you. Definitely an impasse.”

  “Ship requesting permission to land, Captain,” a voice said through the tiny speaker under Delightful Childe’s single ear.

  “Then again, Doctor, perhaps a solution is at hand. I will talk to you later. Thank you.”

  4

  FRYE CHARLTOS AWOKE WITH A START. Instinctively he reached out to touch Vinita. A dark hollow swallowed his heart when he touched the emptiness beside him. With a low, growling sigh, he dropped back to the hard mattress and clenched his hands across his chest. Anger burned in him, anger for which there was still no release.

  Forty, he thought. It has been forty days since she died, forty days since I killed her…forty endless days with only Vinita’s ghost and the sadness of his me
mories to keep him company. If only Lisa Cay were here to help…

  Lisa Cay. Every night he thought about her, wondered where she was and if she could keep her promise. Frye did not doubt that she would keep the promise if there were any way for her to get to him. But could she? It had been more than five local years since they had heard from her, five years without having any idea of where she was or what she was doing . Even when that message had come five years ago, it had been typically Lisa Cay – brief, vague, and full of love.

  With a second, quieter sigh, Frye rolled over and got out of bed. There were other things he had to think about now. This was the day of his major announcement to Bridgeforce. In less than five hours he would tell them about his plans to attack the Matthews system. But as he cleansed away the residue of another restless night, he kept seeing Vinita’s face in the mirror, and behind her, the smiling image of Lisa Cay.

  By the time Frye arrived at his office, the darkness in his heart had hardened like the black coating behind a mirror, allowing only reflections of the outside world while protecting him their intensive glare. As dawn slid under the clouds and washed the ice-capped Irkbie Mountains with brilliant flows of burnt-orange light. Frye darkened his window. Vinita had loved dawn over the mountains, and had led him to love it. Now those colors which had thrilled her so only made him more aware of her absence and the anger which built steadily within him.

  “Reporting for duty, sir,” AOCO Melliman’s soft voice said through the desk speaker.

  “Thank you,” Frye replied quietly into his lapelcom. “I want the overnights as soon as they are compiled.”

  “I’ve already fed them into your microspooler, sir.”

  “Any changes?”

  “Nothing major, sir. But you might want to check the update on the Matthews system. There’s been some increased activity there which I think you will find significant.”