“You’re avoiding getting to the point.”
“It’s hard.” He edged closer to her on the sofa, and lowered his voice. “Ecolitans always have contingency plans. The Prime insisted I develop some. You won’t like them. They’re far worse than what I did in New Augusta, far worse—”
“What we did.”
“What we did,” he agreed. “Here’s what I have in mind. You and Swersa and I are going to raise the military and governmental stakes…very high…and very directly…for Tinhorn. One thing that the Institute has understood from the beginning is that you strike for the heart and at those responsible.”
“That’s why you hit the Defense Tower on Old Earth.”
He nodded. “This is worse. I think we can take out the Conglomerate’s entire command structure.”
“You…us? No one’s ever done that.”
“It’s been done before. It’s just that most leaders avoid operations that would make them targets in retaliation…and there’s going to be some collateral damage. Maybe a lot of collateral damage.”
Sylvia swallowed as he continued to lay out the contingency plan. Finally, she held up her hand. “Do we really need to do something this drastic?”
“Let’s see. We’ve killed two Fuardian agents; highjacked a Frankan ship; sent information and messages to most of the intelligence agencies in the Galaxy. The I.I.S. has beaten on D.I. and the eagles. In response, the Empire continues to prepare to attack Accord. The Conglomerate continues to spread bean plague and increase its military arsenal while preparing to invade Artos. All the factions on Artos are ready to explode into a civil war which none of them can win.”
“That’s all true,” Sylvia said. “But do we need such a drastic response?”
“There theoretically might be something less…catastrophic. There’s only one problem. We don’t have those kinds of resources. We don’t have a fleet at hand. Or landing battalions, or whatever.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Besides, I have a moral problem with that. Our hypothetical fleet—and the people in it—is innocent. We’re supposed to get lots of our people killed after the Fuards have already killed millions? As I see it, I have a choice. I can wait until Artos is in Fuard hands, and until the Empire and Accord are at full war, and until millions more die on planoformed worlds. Then, any action I take will be justified. Or, I can take immediate action to prevent a war and be condemned for being immoral and precipitous because any action I take has to be targeted and catastrophic.”
He looked at Sylvia. “Now…I’ve been raised in a system that believes that early action that saves the innocent is more moral than later, more justified action that results in more deaths. And sometimes, we’re wrong. And if I’m wrong now, a lot of people will die. So, first, do you think I’m wrong about the cause of the problem?”
Sylvia moistened her lips, then looked at the floor, then at the window.
Nathaniel waited.
“No,” she finally said.
“All right. Can you think of any other way to stop this mess before millions or hundreds of millions die?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
“You’re right about that, too,” he admitted. “How much time do we have to come up with another solution?”
“Not much.”
“How about a compromise of sorts? We work on this. If you can think of anything that we can actually implement that’s less deadly…we’ll look at it.”
Sylvia took a deep breath. “I don’t like it.”
“Sylvia, do you think I do? Do you think I like being the point man in a universe where every time I have to act I discover that people respect only force in large quantities? Where people are more interested in self-justification than in preventing unnecessary deaths? Where I’m being betrayed or undercut by my own people? Where the same thing is happening to you?”
“You might as well get on with your plan.” Her voice was hoarse.
So he did, stopping for water all too often to moisten a throat that got drier with each deadly word.
XXXVII
“WE HAVE A problem,” said Nathaniel as the two stepped into Swersa’s office. Sylvia closed the door.
“I thought your study was complete.” The white-haired Ecolitan fingered her chin and frowned.
“The study was only the first part. It was also a cover.” Whaler laughed. “It’s a good study, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Reason and rationality usually aren’t,” Sylvia added with a hard and bright smile.
“Might I use your console for a moment?” Nathaniel smiled politely.
Swersa swallowed, then stepped toward the equipment, and flicked the privacy screens on. “You’re not just an economist.”
“I’m an economist who’s been continually drafted into trying to solve problems bigger than I am.”
“You’re going to invoke the delegation clause, I suppose?”
Nathaniel shook his head, almost sadly, as he slipped behind the console. “No. I’m invoking the Prime clause.”
As the lights flickered across the console before settling into the green, the older Ecolitan looked from one green uniform to the other, then to the grayness of brick and clouds beyond the windows. “I got the message, but…I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“It has. Perhaps worse than the Prime anticipated.”
In the silence that followed, Nathaniel sat behind the console and began to enter the necessary codes.
Over his shoulder, Swersa watched as the lines unfolded on the screen, and her eyes widened. Her swallow was more like a gulp.
“You want to purchase the largest interstellar cargo carrier available in the New Avalon system and want it delivered now? How can you afford—”
“The credit line is twenty billion. You should be able to get what we need for three.”
Even Sylvia swallowed as Nathaniel offered the numbers.
Swersa continued to stare over the sandy-haired Ecolitan’s shoulder at the screen.
“Now,” emphasized Nathaniel. “The largest carrier available by tomorrow, the day after by the latest. With support boats. If not support boats, then yachts that will fit inside a cargo lock. No publicity, no notice.” He began to type in the remainder of the specifications he had developed at a time that seemed all too long ago, even though it had been less than two months earlier.
“Isn’t this premature? I mean, nothing’s happened.”
Sylvia shook her head. “By the time anything happens, it will be too late.”
“This would happen to me.” Swersa paused. “What about a crew?”
“Me…you…Sylvia.” He paused. “You are current, aren’t you, at least to be a second pilot?”
“I’ve got a command cert, sir.”
“Good.”
“But…”
“What is the oath?”
Swersa paled. “You can’t be serious.”
“Don’t you think averting a Galactic war is enough justification?”
“I can’t believe you—or the Prime—”
Sylvia’s eyes flicked from one Ecolitan to the other.
Nathaniel shook his head and said slowly, “‘All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’ Very ancient quote. What does the oath say?”
“To do what is necessary…to act for the greater good…to put principle above politics.”
“That’s what we’re doing.” He pushed himself away from the console and gestured to the screen. “That’s your charge.”
“But a cargo carrier…how will that…the Conglomerate has hundreds of warships. Or will you pull out some economic miracle?”
“As all of the great villains in history have said, ‘Trust me.’” Nathaniel laughed harshly. “If I’m successful, I’ll doubtless join them. If not, then several hundred million more innocents will die.”
XXXVIII
PRIORITY FLAME ONE
DENEAL F. KRUPKLAATU
MARSHAL OF T
HE FLEETS
DEPARTMENT OF WAR
FUARDIAN CONGLOMERATE
TEMPTE, TINHORN
PRIORITY FLAME ONE
TINHORN’S INTEREST IN ARTOS, AND THE SPACIAL CONCERNS SURROUNDING THE THREE SYSTEM BULGE, HAVE COME TO THE ATTENTION OF THE ECONOMIC SURVEY SERVICE OF THE ECOLITAN INSTITUTE. WE ARE DEEPLY CONCERNED AS WELL ABOUT THE MISUSE OF CERTAIN ECOLOGICAL STUDIES INVOLVING HYDROCARBON FIXING AND SYNDE BEAN OPTIMIZATION. WE HAVE CONVEYED OUR UNDERSTANDING OF THESE CONCERNS TO OTHERS WHO SHARE SIMILAR INTERESTS.
IN VIEW OF YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES AS THE TITULAR HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF WAR, THE INSTITUTE REGARDS ANY ATTEMPTS TO (1) DESTABILIZE THE DOMESTIC STRUCTURE OF ARTOS, (2) IMPOSE A MORE STABLE STRUCTURE THROUGH EXTERIOR EFFORTS, (3) REDUCE HYDROCARBON FIXING ON IMPERIAL AND OTHER SYSTEMS THROUGH THE PERVERSION OF ECOLOGICAL STUDIES, AND (4) THE USE OF COMMERCIAL ENTERTAINMENT MEDIA AS A VEHICLE FOR TARGETED ADVERSE PROPAGANDA AS CONTRIBUTING TO GALACTIC DESTABILIZATION.
BECAUSE THE INSTITUTE HAS LONG VIEWED ECOLOGICAL, SOCIOLOGICAL, ECONOMIC AND POLITICAL STABILITY AS INTERTWINED, THE INSTITUTE REGARDS ANY SUCH ATTEMPTS AT DESTABILIZATION AS ECOLOGICALLY UNWARRANTED. THAT DESTABILIZATION WILL BE RIGHTED SHORTLY. WE STRONGLY SUGGEST THAT YOU NOTE THE MINIMAL USE OF RESOURCES REQUIRED TO ACHIEVE THIS RESTABILIZATION.
YOU WILL ALSO NOTE THAT ALL OTHERS WITH AN INTEREST IN SUCH RESTABILIZATION HAVE BEEN COPIED. THEY HAVE ALSO RECEIVED SUPPORTING INFORMATION THAT IS UNNECESSARY FOR THE CONGLOMERATE.
The Fuardian marshal looked at the flimsy. “They’re bluffing. They have to be bluffing.”
The sub-marshal waited.
“What do you say, Sub-marshal Hommel?”
“I do not have the information you have, ser.”
“But?”
“Accord—the Institute—has never bluffed.”
“They cannot stop us. Not even they can stop us. Not now. Continue the plan.”
XXXIX
THE FOUR STOOD behind the lock hatch of the shuttle as it crept up to the wall-like hull of the former J.M. Turner.
“She’s all yours, Ecolitan. Fully energized, with all the boats except number five.” The small man wiped his forehead. “All the magtites operational except number three—you knew about that. And two weeks of standard crew fare.” He raised both eyebrows.
Nathaniel nodded. “We’ll take a look, of course.”
“Yes, sir.” Magnuson, the ship factor representing the Bank of Camelot, wiped his forehead again. “The crew fare is class one, I might add.”
“Thank you.”
Clunk. The shuttle shivered as the small craft linked to the cargo carrier.
“Magnuson, you’re clear to take the purchasers aboard.” The words reverberated from the speaker above the lock.
Nathaniel closed his helmet, as did the others, before entering the lock. The faint hissing as the pressure between the cargo carrier and the shuttle equalized was inaudible, and Nathaniel automatically checked the outside pressure gauge—a little over thirty, or about eighty percent of T-Norm. The pressure stayed there as the four entered the Turner’s lock. Even the passenger lock was oversized, with a three meter square hatch, probably for large and delicate cargo of some sort.
Once the inner lock hatch closed behind the four and they stood—or floated—in the red maintenance lights of the passageway, Nathaniel cracked his helmet. The air was chill, both sterile and musty, although the Turner had only been laid into storage a month before, with the bankruptcy and collapse of Hanoverian Shipping. Three other cargo ships had also been available, but the Turner had the largest drives and the greatest tonnage.
“Forward.” Nathaniel turned and let the others follow as he pulled himself forward.
The cockpit—except it was the bridge on commercial ships, Nathaniel recalled—was only slightly larger than on an Institute cruiser, with four couch positions, rather than five. The board before the pilots’ couches was simpler, the engineering board close to identical, but a military ship had nothing to compare to the fourth board, for cargo handling and loading. Then…there were no weapons board, and no separate comm board.
He pulled himself down into the captain’s couch, belted himself in, and lifted the input set, adjusting the clamps before easing it into place and toggling the system standbys. He could feel Magnuson wince at the power drains. Anything drained power on a ship so large.
“Cells…normal…converters…accumulators…shield lines…” he murmured as he checked the circuits to each and the readouts.
From what he could tell through the shipnets, the Turner was as represented, not that he could afford to reject the ship if she were basically capable of what he needed. But there was no point in letting the bank’s tame factor know that. He paused, then set the gee field to minimum.
He set aside the input headset and stood. “Now…the drive spaces.”
Magnuson nodded, and the three followed him aft, half-bounding, half-drifting in the min-gee he’d toggled into place.
The door to the drive spaces creaked as it irised open, but moved smoothly.
Each jump-generator was the size of the entire drive space in a military corvette, and there were five. In spite of himself, Nathaniel was impressed. The Turner might actually have the power to do what he’d planned. He pushed aside those thoughts. First things first, or he’d never get to the end.
The drives and supercon lines looked operational, as did the rest of the arrayed equipment.
Nathaniel plugged into the lower boards, running through the circuits, starting with the drives, then going to the jump-generators, and finally ending with the power leads to the magtites.
He shook his head.
“What’s the matter, sir? It’s just as the specs said…”
“The power draws for the magtites are thirty percent above specs. That wasn’t specified.”
“We’ll rebate a hundred million.”
“Make it two.” Nathaniel wouldn’t need to use the magtites anywhere close to capacity, perhaps not at all, but there was no sense in the Institute paying more than necessary. “With four of these beasts to sell…”
“All right.” Magnuson swallowed. “All right. Two hundred million.”
“If you would, just send it to the Legation. They can handle it. And make sure title is held by the Institute,” he emphasized again.
“As you wish, Ecolitan Whaler.”
He closed down the boards, shifting the controls back forward, and sealed them. Then he checked the supercon lines again, and the actual power flows. Supposedly, cross-connections were standard on every cargo carrier, but he needed to ensure that.
He finally nodded. He could shift everything into the in-system drives, every last erg of power.
“Is that all?”
“Almost, Magnuson. The boats, and then we’ll be through.”
There were supposed to be two boats for each hatch, ten in all, and a lifeboat, which was more like a courier. In fact, the specs were similar. One boat—boat five—was missing, as the factor had pointed out from the beginning.
From what Nathaniel could tell, the ship held atmosphere; the boats were operational; the systems worked; and the entire carrier was economically unfeasible under current economic conditions.
After checking the courier, the Ecolitan straightened. “Everything seems to be as specified…except for the magtites. Let’s go back forward.”
As the four reached the passageway opposite the forward crew/passenger lock, Magnuson fumbled out the oblong that was half clipboard, half datacase. “If you would authenticate this, and make the changes. The rebate section is at the end…”
Nathaniel forced himself to read through all the clauses, just to make sure of things like liabilities and contingencies, to ensure they didn’t outlive the lifetime of the ship. From what he could tell, they didn’t, and he finally authenticated everything, after he’d added the provisions for the two hundred million credit rebate, and ensuring that the Institute held title.
He want
ed to smile. For a man who’d never made fifty thousand, spending slightly over three billion credits in a day seemed insane—but what he was planning was equally so.
“What are you going to do with her, sir, if I might ask?” Magnuson stowed the datacase, then paused by the passenger lock.
“Reinforce some of the forgotten laws of economics, Magnuson.” Nathaniel smiled coolly.
“I…we…wish you well.”
“Thank you.”
After the ship factor’s boat vanished into the darkness beyond the hull, Nathaniel took a deep breath. They had much to do, too much.
Sylvia and LuAn looked to him.
“First, we get ready to break orbit and get out of here, before anyone understands what we’ve got.”
“What do we have?”
“A ship almost as big as the largest Imperial battlecruiser.” And about a dozen times as deadly…if…if…his contingency plans worked. He turned back toward the bridge-cockpit. “Let’s go.”
XL
NATHANIEL EASED THE drives on line, then completed the checklist before squaring himself in the pilot’s couch and triggering the comm. “New Avalon orbit control, this is Coordinate ship Adam Smith, breaking orbit this time. Breaking orbit this time.”
“Coordinate vessel Smith, cleared outbound, radial zero nine five, remain within the orange until past beacon three. Request you remain at point one zero delta vee until clear of the home zone.”
“Stet, control, holding point one zero on zero nine five this time. Point one zero on zero nine five this time.” Nathaniel glanced toward the second seat where Sylvia sat monitoring his actions, trying to get some basic understanding of the board. He turned his head toward the engineering board.
Ecolitan Prime (Ecolitan Matter) Page 52
