Sincerely,
Edgar James Stone
President of the United Commonwealth.
General Hayes stood perfectly still for perhaps two minutes, holding
the piece of paper in his tightly clench hands, looking at the blank
portion at the top of it with unfocused eyes. The two lesser generals,
knowing better, did not interrupt his mediations, but remained silently
by the door. Calder knew his master well enough to read the signs of
rejection, and still greater determination, on his face. Frank could
only stare at the man he both admired and feared, wondering.
At length the Secretary stirred.
"Your incinerator, Michael." Calder handed him the tiny device, and
Hayes vaporized the President's message. He rose.
"General Frank. Schedule a meeting of the Staff in ConRoom 16 for 2200
hours. I'll address all subcommanders by visual at 0600 tomorrow.
Request your communications officer to remain in his quarters until I
send for him. The attack will go on as scheduled."
Hayes, his thought rebuked, was now going on instinct. And his
instincts always told him to attack. The three dispersed, and the
First Communications crew, with the exception of Janson, returned to
their posts.
There are perhaps three basic ways that the human mind reacts when its
perception of reality, colored by hopes and dreams, is suddenly,
forcibly confronted. The first is the way adopted by those who
acknowledge their own humanity. This is to take a step back, question
perspective, yield to some more profound influence, or simply admit
that there may be some aspect of the situation not immediately
understood. In short, it is the realization that life, for good or
ill, is not going to change for them, and that their dreams and
ambitions must be based on reality, or they simply cannot last.
The second reaction, just as common, may be viewed as the first step
toward irrational thinking. Those who fall into this category, rather
than relinquishing the illusion in question, cling the more fiercely to
it, stubbornly blocking out all contradictory input, and, if necessary,
delving into a world of pure fantasy.
The third reaction, by far the most dangerous, is centered around a
belief that the more one's goals and ambitions are resisted, the truer
and more indisputable the path taken, since clearly they are being
resisted by evil. The Devil, and those who serve him, are to blame.
Therefore the harder the subsequent struggle, the more righteous the
cause. Such is the road taken by the political or religious fanatic.
Hayes, in his more rational moods, fell into the second category. When
directly challenged, as he was now, he fell into the third.
The man remained seated in his quarters, brooding. All his thought had
been bent so strongly, all his efforts geared so unshakably toward the
realization of a single goal---riding the tide of patriotic fervor,
with the whole of the Commonwealth behind him, into a grand and
decisive campaign against galactic communism---that Stone's rejection
had hit him like a physical blow. Why had his destiny been denied him?
OR WAS IT A TRIAL OF FAITH?
And one more thing troubled him. He was still sane and noble enough
(after a fashion) to see that it would indeed be wrong to usurp the
duly-elected President, fool that he was, and try to seize power by a
military coup. This, however, did not keep him from disregarding his
current orders, which were clearly and dangerously wrong. Having been
stripped of its pet fantasy, his mind now seized upon another.
HE WOULD DO IT ALL HIMSELF. With only the resources and undying
loyalty of the Third Fleet, he would defeat Soviet Space alone, against
orders---the greatest military feat of all time. Each disposition
would have to be perfect, each soldier's skill and determination honed
to a cutting edge of steel. AGAINST ALL ODDS! Or, at the very least,
he would draw the Soviets into a full-scale war. . .and give his
reluctant president no choice..... He got up and began to pace
eagerly, shaking off age and fatigue.
YES, THAT'S IT. OF COURSE! HE THINKS HE'S MADE A CLEVER MOVE, CHEATED
ME. WE'LL SEE HOW LONG THE SOVIETS REMAIN NEUTRAL WHEN I DEVASTATE THE
COALITION FORCES, AND KNOCK OUT THE EAST GERMAN HOME PLANET. "MORE
DEPENDS ON IT THAN YOUR EGO OR MINE," HE SAID TO ME. "TO VIEW THE
MATTER HARSHLY. . .TREASON!" HE'LL 'CALL MY BLUFF', WILL HE? MY
'OBSESSION' WITH COMMUNISM. Hayes smashed a fist into his open hand.
"RELINQUISH ALL MILITARY TITLES." "MAVERICK!." SO HELP ME GOD; IF
THIS ACTION ISN'T ENOUGH TO CHANGE HIS MIND, I'LL DO IT. I'LL COME
AFTER HIM! FOOL. BLIND FOOL.
At length he ceased his pacing and grew calmer. The meeting with
General Staff was approaching, and he must decide what course to take
with them:
The meeting would be held. He would address the sub-commanders as
scheduled, as the mighty ship headed out toward the entrance of the
star gate. Nothing had changed. Stone's actions had been a small
annoyance, nothing more. He switched on the dictation machine, and
began speaking rapidly and decisively.
* * *
Lt. Eric Muller had been in e-light warp for almost fifteen hours,
barely outraced by the laser sounding-beam sent out ahead of him days
before.
So far he had been lucky---he had not had to deviate course. He knew
that once he did, leaving the path of the beam, he would have no
warning at all before smashing into an unrecorded meteor, or bit of
space debris. To come out of light-speed and fly by sight and
instruments meant to expose himself to tracking, almost certain death
while approaching enemy-controlled positions.
The small, blistering ship in which he flew had been designed with but
a single purpose: to outrace tracking, come out of warp just long
enough to aim the projectile, then split in two, the adjoining missile
(hopefully) striking its target before the enemy could react, while the
escape-ship ran for cover.
It was a desperate scheme, this squadron of forty missile-ships; but it
remained theoretically possible, and therefore must be tried. The
Coalition powers had not been idle since the attack on Athena, and the
high command of the Provinces of Democratic (East) Germany, suspecting
their inner planets to be a likely next target, were determined to show
Hayes what they were made of---that it would be no easy fight---and
that the Dreadnought was not impregnable.
Constant tension and near maniacal alertness had begun to take its toll
on the young pilot, chosen, along with the others, because of his
lightning reflexes and exceptional endurance. Two seconds of neglect
were all that was needed to end his life. If for that brief period he
did not watch the signal monitor and react instantaneously to its
warning---the possible complexities of which were too vast even for an
unassisted computer to judge---all was lost. He could not know it,
since the speed at which he traveled made communication impossible, but
eight of his comrades had already been killed, or forced to break off
because of mechanical failure.
He reached back to massage his aching neck. Scarcely a moment had
passed before he heard the warning tone---meteor particles directly
ahead. With the thought control computer he veered left and down, then
back again to the right. His reactions had been swift and correct, and
he was able to readjust quickly and continue on toward the target.
But the beam was lost, so that now he flew blind. And after a time the
real fear began to set in. Roughly two hours later his craft spun out
of control and exploded, after striking a meteor-pellet six inches
long. SubCaptain Schmidt was lost a few minutes after that, when he
outraced his beam and tried to decelerate too quickly.
Twenty-four hours into the mission, only seven of the original forty
remained, still at least eight hours away from their estimated time of
intercept.