The Spectre General

a little help before we can do it. You see, we’re not quite sure just where your base is.”

“I’ll help all I can,” said Kurt.

“Fine!” said the commander, rubbing his palms together. “Now just where down there do you come from?” He pointed out the vision port to the curving globe that stretched out below.

Kurt looked down helplessly. “Nothing makes sense, seeing it from up here,” he said apologetically.

Krogson thought for a moment. “What’s the country like around your base?” he asked.

“Mostly jungle,” said Kurt. “The garrison is on a plateau though and there are mountains to the north.”

Krogson turned quickly to his exec. “Did you get that description?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Get all scouts out for a close sweep. As soon as the base is spotted, move the fleet in and hover at forty thousand!”

Forty minutes later a scout came streaking back.

“Found it, sir!” said the exec. “Plateau with jungle all around and mountains to the north. There’s a settlement at one end. The pilot saw movement down there, but they must have spotted us on our way in. There’s still no evidence of energy radiation. They must have everything shut down.”

“That’s not good!” said Krogson. “They’ve probably got all their heavy stuff set up waiting for us to sweep over. We’ll have to hit them hard and fast. Did they spot the scout?”

“Can’t tell, sir.”

“We’d better assume that they did. Notify all gunnery officers to switch their batteries over to central control. If we come in fast and high and hit them with simultaneous fleet concentration, we can vaporize the whole base before they can take a crack at us.”

“I’ll send the order out at once, sir,” said the executive officer.

The fleet pulled into tight formation and headed toward the Imperial base. They were halfway there when the fleet gunnery officer entered the control room and said apologetically to Commander Krogson, “Excuse me, sir, but I’d like to suggest a trial run. Fleet concentration is a tricky thing, and if something went haywire—we’d be sitting ducks for the ground batteries.”

“Good idea,” said Krogson thoughtfully. “There’s too much at stake to have anything to go wrong. Select an equivalent target, and we’ll make a pass.”

The fleet was now passing over a towering mountain chain.

“How about that bald spot down there?” said the Exec, pointing to a rocky expanse that jutted out from the side of one of the towering peaks.

“Good enough,” said Krogson.

“All ships on central control!” reported the gunnery officer.

“On target!” repeated the tech on the tracking screen. “One. Two. Three. Four—”

Kurt stood by the front observation port watching the ground far below sweep by. He had been listening intently, but what had been said didn’t make sense. There had been something about batteries— the term was alien to him—and something about the garrison. He decided to ask the commander what it was all about, but the intent-ness with which Krogson was watching the tracking screen deterred him. Instead he gazed moodily down at the mountains below him.

“Five. Six. Seven. Ready. FIRE!”

A savage shudder ran through the great ship as her ground-pointed batteries blasted in unison. Seconds went by and then suddenly the rocky expanse on the shoulder of the mountain directly below twinkled as blinding flashes of actinic light danced across it. Then as Kurt watched, great masses of rock and earth moved slowly skyward from the center of the spurting nests of tangled flame. Still slowly, as if buoyed up by the thin mountain air, the debris began to fall back again until it was lost from sight in quick rising mushrooms of jet-black smoke. Kurt turned and looked back toward Commander Krogson. Batteries must be the things that had torn the mountains below apart. And garrison—there was only one garrison!

“I ordered fleet fire,” barked Krogson. “This ship was the only one that cut loose. What happened?”

“Just a second, sir,” said the executive officer, “I’ll try and find out.” He was busy for a minute on the intercom system. “The other ships were ready, sir,” he reported finally. “Their guns were all switched over to our control, but no impulse came through. Central fire control must be on the blink!” He gestured toward a complex bank of equipment that occupied one entire corner of the control room.

Commander Krogson said a few appropriate words. When he reached the point where he was beginning to repeat himself, he paused and stood in frozen silence for a good thirty seconds.

“Would you mind getting a fire control tech in here to fix that obscenity bank?” he asked in a voice that put everyone’s teeth on edge.

The other seemed to have something to say, but he was having trouble getting it out.

“Well?” said Krogson.

“Prime Base grabbed our last one two weeks ago. There isn’t another left with the fleet.”

“Doesn’t look like much to me,” said Kurt as he strolled over to examine the bank of equipment.

“Get away from there!” roared the commander. “We’ve got enough trouble without you making things worse.”

Kurt ignored him and began to open inspection ports.

“Guard!” yelled Krogson. “Throw that man out of here!”

Ozaki interrupted timidly. “Beg pardon, commander, but he can fix it if anybody can.”

Krogson whirled on the flight officer. “How do you know?”

Ozaki caught himself just in time. If he talked too much, he was likely to lose the scout that Kurt had fixed for him.

“Because he… eh… talks like a tech,” he concluded lamely.

Krogson looked at Kurt dubiously. “I guess there’s no harm in giving it a trial,” he said finally. “Give him a set of tools and turn him loose. Maybe for once a miracle will happen.”

“First,” said Kurt, “111 need the wiring diagrams for this thing.”

“Get them!” barked the commander and an orderly scuttled out of the control, headed aft.

“Next you’ll have to give me a general idea of what it’s supposed to do,” continued Kurt.

Krogson turned to the gunnery officer. “You’d better handle this.”

When the orderly returned with the circuit diagrams, they were spread out on the plotting table and the two men bent over them.

“Got it!” said Kurt at last and sauntered over to the control bank. Twenty minutes later he sauntered back again.

“She’s all right now,” he said pleasandy.

The gunner officer quickly scanned his testing board. Not a single red trouble light was on. He turned to Commander Krogson in amazement.

“I don’t know how he did it, sir, but the circuits are all clear now.”

Krogson stared at Kurt with a look of new respect in his eyes. “What were you down there, chief maintenance tech?”

Kurt laughed. “Me? I was never chief anything. I spent most of my time on hunting detail.”

The commander digested that in silence for a moment. “Then how did you become so familiar with fire- control gear?”

“Studied it in school like everyone else does. There wasn’t anything much wrong with that thing anyway except a couple of sticking relays.”

“Excuse me, sir,” interrupted the executive officer, “but should we make another trial run?”

“Are you sure the bank is in working order?”

“Positive, sir!”

“Then we’d better make straight for that base. If this boy here is a fair example of what they have down there, their defenses may be too tough for us to crack if we give them a chance to get set up!”

Kurt gave a slight start which he quickly controlled. Then he had guessed right! Slowly and casually he began to sidle toward the semicircular bank of controls that stood before the great tracking screen.

“Where do you think you’re going!” barked Krogson.

Kurt froze. His pulses were pounding within him, but he kept his voice light and casual.