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automatically, still taken aback by the momentous changes and the immense
gravity of the situation. What had happened was unbelievable, impossible. But
happened it had.
There was a jar as they touched down, then he was thrust forward against the
safety harness as the engines reversed. The screen and keyboard disappeared at
the touch of a button; the dark window cleared and he looked out at the white
towers of the space center, now washed with glowing ochre by the sun. He was
the first passenger off the plane.
Two uniformed guards were waiting for him; he nodded at their snappy salutes.
Nothing was said, nor did they ask for identification. They knew who he was,
knew also that this was an unscheduled flight arranged for his benefit.
Thurgood-Smythe's beaklike nose and lean, hard features had been made familiar
by the news reports. His short-cropped white hair appeared severely military
compared to the longer-haired styles currently in fashion. He looked exactly
what he was; someone in charge.
Auguste Blanc was standing at the ceiling-high window, his back turned, when
Thurgood-
Smythe came in. As Director of Spaceconcent his office was naturally on the
top floor of the tallest administration building. The view was impressive; the
sunset incomparable. The mountains on the horizon were purple-black, outlined
against the red of the sky. All of the buildings and the towering spaceships
were washed by the same fiery color. The color of
"The dry air of the airship. Not humidified as we of course do in the spacers.
Here you are." He passed over the tall glass, then poured an Armagnac for
himself. Without turning about, as though ashamed of what he was saying, he
spoke into the bottles of the cocktail cabinet. "Is it bad? As bad as I have
heard?"
"I don't know what you have heard." Thurgood-Smythe took a long drink from his
glass.
"But I can tell you this, in all secrecy..."
"This room is secure."
"... it is far worse than any of us thought. A debacle." He dropped into an
armchair and stared sightlessly into his glass. "We've lost. Everywhere. Not a
single planet remains within our control--"
"That cannot be!" The sophistication was gone and there was an edge of animal
fear in
Auguste Blanc's voice. "Our deepspace bases, how could they be taken?"
"I'm not talking about those. They're unimportant. All of them on low-gravity,
airless moons. They aren't self-sufficient, they must be supplied regularly.
More of a handicap than an asset. They can't be attacked -- but they can be
starved out. We're evacuating them all."
"You cannot! They are our foothold, the cutting edge of the blade for
conquest..
"They are our Achilles' heel, if you wish to continue this stupid simile."
There was no trace of politeness, no touch of warmth in Thurgood-Smythe's
voice now. "We need the transport and we need the men. Here is an order. See
that it goes out on the Foscolo net at once." He took a single sheet of paper
from his case and passed it over to the trembling director. "The debate is
done. Two days of it. This is the combined decision."
"Retreat." Spoken bitterly. "Then we have lost already."
"No. Not in the slightest. We have the spacers, and among them are the only
ships designed for military use. The enemy have freighters, tugs, a handful of
deserters. Many of their worlds already face starvation. While they are
thinking about survival we shall reinforce our defenses. When they try to
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attack us they will certainly be defeated. Then, one by one, we will reoccupy.
You and I will probably not see the end, not in our time, but this rebellion
will eventually be stifled and crushed. That is what will be done."
"What must I do?" Auguste Blanc asked, still insecure.
"Send this command. It is a security order to all commanders to change codes.
I am sure that the old one is compromised by now."
Auguste Blanc looked at the incomprehensible series of letters and numbers,
then nodded. Encoding and decoding were a computer function and he neither
knew nor cared how they operated. He slid the sheet into the reader slot in
his desk top and tapped a series of commands on the keyboard. A few seconds
after he had done this the response sounded from the computer speakers.
"Command issued to all receivers listed. Response received from all receivers
listed.
Communication code has been changed."
Thurgood-Smythe nodded when he heard this and put another sheet of paper onto
Auguste Blanc's desk.
"You will notice that the orders are issued in very general terms. The fleet
to be withdrawn to Earth orbit as soon as possible, all advanced bases to be
deactivated, the Lunar
find out what it means when we shoot a few of them. For hoarding, and
spreading defeatist rumors as well.
"I'll tell you the truth," Thurgood-Smythe said aloud, "but I'm going to give
you a warning first. We are in a war, and morale is very important in wartime.
So people who spread false rumors, who attempt to hoard food depriving others
of their share -- these people are aiding the enemy and they will be punished.
Punishment will be imprisonment and execution. Am I
expressing myself clearly enough for you?"
"Yes; I didn't really understand. I really am sorry, had no idea..."
The man was trembling again; Thurgood-Smythe tried not to let his distaste
show in his expression. "Very good. There will be no starvation on Earth --
but there will be shortages and rationing. We have always imported a certain
amount of prole food, but I don't think either of us will worry if their
rations are short. More important is the fact that a blight has destroyed all
of the Australian food crops for this growing season..."
"Blight? All their crops... I don't understand."
"Mutated virus. Spread by bombing from space. Self-eliminating after a few
months but it will mean completely replanting all of the food crops with
imported seed."
"You must destroy them all! Criminal rebels -- they are trying to starve us to
death!"
"Not really. They were just delivering a warning. It appears that in
enthusiasm for revenge some of our space commanders took individual actions.
At least two rebel planets have been effectively destroyed. The rebel reaction
was to send this ship to bomb Australia. It could just as easily have
decimated the entire world's food crops. It was a message. We of course took
Blanc looked at it then passed it over.
"It is addressed to you," he said.
Thurgood-Smythe read it quickly, then smiled.
"I ordered all reports of enemy ship movements to be screened and analyzed.
They need food more than we do. They have now sent a number of ships to
Halvmork. One of the largest food planets. I want those ships to land and load
completely. Then leave..."
"So we can capture them!" Auguste Blanc was exuberant, his earlier fears
forgotten for the moment. "A genius of a plan, Thurgood-Smythe, may I
congratulate you. They brought this war upon themselves and now they will pay.
We will take the food and give them starvation in return."
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"Exactly what I had in mind, Auguste. Exactly."
They smiled at each other with sadistic pleasure.
"They have only themselves to blame," Thurgood-Smythe said. "We gave them
peace and they gave us war. We will now show them the high price that must be
paid for that decision. When we are done with them there will be peace in the
galaxy forever. They have forgotten that they are the children of Earth, that
we built the commonwealth of planets for their sakes. They have forgotten what [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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