knew this, of course, and had no intention of fighting a pitched battle here if it could be avoided.
Cord, with his usual foresight, had already begun work on one of the bases, his ‘bolt hole’. Located on an airless moon in an uninhabited system one jump away, Cord had equipped it with living quarters, communications, and administrative facilities. However, it would serve wonderfully as a supply and staging area for operations. We began expanding it at a frenzied pace.
The other base was much smaller, but since it was located in the Haven system itself, it was much more modest and highly classified.
It was established on a large asteroid in the belt. We packed it with supplies for several months. It would house some thirty of our armed mining boats. For the present, we would rotate boat pilots every week or so; but when Jonas invaded, whoever was present would remain for the duration. The base consisted of little more than drilled caves full of supplies, a few domes, and a relatively flat area that served as a landing field for the boats. The asteroid had just enough gravity to keep the boats from drifting away, though a single man could have pushed them off. They were tethered down for safety.
Predator, Valkyrie and the rim tramps arrived, with the mining boats and pilots. I sent the rim tramps and the first batch of pilots off to the asteroid base, while Predator and my old Valkyrie (with Suli aboard!) assumed orbit around Haven. Valkyrie 's own load of mining boats remained aboard.
I lost no time summoning Wil Tor.
“Major,” I began, “I have a job for you. Any time now, Jonas is going to come swarming out of the Thaeron system with blood in his eye. When he does, most of our forces are going to run fast and far. But,” I continued, “that means leaving the people of the rim to Jonas’ tender mercies — and he doesn’t have any.
“Until now, events have forced me to concentrate on spaceborne defenses. However, not only the systems need defending. Many innocent people will need help, too. When Jonas comes, we’ll have to let him have the sector for a while, perhaps several months. But we don’t want to let him dig in. We want to keep him nervous, keep things going wrong for him.”
Tor nodded. “You want me to organize a resistance movement.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “but I can’t give you much in the way of weapons. We have the manufacturing capacity, but we simply don’t have the time to design and make them. Oh, we may be able to adapt some industrial lasers or something, but don’t expect blasters and marine laser rifles.”
Tor looked excited. “That’s not a problem, sir. Actually, this is great! My hobby is ancient weapons. I’ll bet we can improvise some nasty surprises. What can you give me, sir?”
I grinned. I remembered my own fire-eating days. “I can put an unarmed rim tramp under your orders,” I replied, “and I can give you all of your marines, and authority to have weapons made when possible. But Major, you’re going to be pretty much on your own.” I shrugged. “Hopefully, we’ll be ready to fight within a few weeks of Jonas’ invasion, but I can’t guarantee that, of course.”
He nodded excitedly. “We know we’ll need an active resistance movement on Haven, but how many other planets do you think we’ll need to cover?”
I sighed. “I wish I could tell you. There are thirty-one inhabited systems in the sector, but Jonas has limited resources. If I were you, I’d start with Haven, and then perhaps set up operations commanded by one of your subordinates on Gamma, if necessary. I’m told that Gamma and four other systems are the economic engine of the sector. I’d expect them to be Jonas’ secondary targets.”
“Thank you, sir!” he crowed. “We’ll keep him so busy he won’t have time to think about you and the Viceroy!”
I nodded. “I hope so. However, please bear in mind that you’ll be dealing mostly with civilians, both as fighters and as hostages. This won’t be a picnic, Wil. You may have to watch some pretty nasty reprisals take place, and you may have to deal with double agents, criminals, and a lot of other slime. By the time this is over, you’ll be praying to any god that’ll listen for some disciplined marines.”
Tor grinned. “I can handle it, sir. If I run into trouble, I’ll just ask myself, ‘What would Kedron do?’”
I answered his grin. “I hope not. Mostly, Kedron would run!”
A few more pleasantries, and Tor was off, excited as a kid. I hoped I’d be seeing him again.
My next problem was finding someone to command the asteroid boat base. I’d need someone with an understanding of the capabilities of the boats, and the skill and patience to handle the undisciplined pilots. On the advice of Jabeth Rawl and Toms Tindarr, I settled on the supervisor of the orbital smelting station on Delta. He was a tough, grizzled, whipcord-thin old man who was an ex-asteroid miner himself. Most of the miners claimed to dislike him intensely, but they obeyed him without question. I didn’t like him much, but he and Cord hit it off right away. Like him or not, I had confidence that he would be able to run the station, and the intelligence to use it effectively when the time came.
I never did really establish a headquarters on Haven. When Valkyrie arrived, I moved aboard her in orbit. For such planet-bound activities as were necessary, I shuttled to a small office in the viceregal palace. For the most part, I tried to stay off that frozen mudball.
I was walking from the palace’s landing pad to the palace itself when I saw the flash and heard the sharp crack of molecules ionized by a blaster. I instinctively dropped to the ground. After seventeen years in the marines, I was very familiar with the sound of a near miss. I rolled toward cover as the Viceroy’s guards opened fire.
All but one of the guards scurried off in pursuit of the assassin. The one who remained crouched over me, his laser tracking back and forth above my head. There could, after all, be more than one shooter. After a long moment, he said, “When I say go, Admiral, run for the palace; it’s closer than the shuttle… Go!”
I levered myself to my feet and pounded across the pad toward the ornate door, puffing and cursing. It seemed to take days to cover the few yards, my back prickling from the anticipated blaster bolt. Finally, I reached the door and dove through it. I squirmed around so that I could see out the plas of the door, but I remained prone on the floor.
There was a flurry of blaster and laser fire near a small hut at the edge of the landing pad, then silence. Finally, my protector rose and walked casually to the door. I rose to greet him.
“We got him, Admiral. One of our guys is wounded slightly, but otherwise everything’s all right.”
“Any idea who he was?”
The man shrugged. “No, sir. I expect Inspector Tomys will find out. We frown on people trying to kill the Viceroy’s guests, here!' He looked very angry; outraged at the very idea that someone would attempt an assassination at the palace.
Tomys arrived at a pounding run. “You’re really all right, Admiral?”
I assured him that I was unharmed, and he relaxed visibly. “Good, good.” Then he resumed briskly, “Well then, Admiral, I have some work to do, but I see no sense in delaying you any further. I’ll let you know what I learn.”
It was an obvious dismissal. After a few more courtesies, I continued on to my office cubby. It didn’t work. When I found myself reading the same passage for the fourth time and realized that I still had no idea what it said, I gave up and fidgeted, waiting to hear from Tomys.
It was several hours later that I was summoned to Cord’s office. Tomys lounged in a chair across from Cord’s desk.
“Well, Admiral,” Cord began with a sardonic grin, “Few of us are privileged to know our exact worth. Yours seems to be ten thousand crowns!”
I glanced at Tomys. “I thought you had all of Jonas’ MI people under control.”
He nodded. “We do. The shooter wasn’t Military Intelligence. Oh, we’ve identified him, all right. He was a professional killer named Ven Dorgo.” He frowned. “I’m not all upset that dear old Ven is dead, but I sure wish I’d been able to talk with him a bit.”
Cord looked exasperated. “Damn it, Ralf, the guards tried! But when one of them was wounded, they couldn’t take any more chances. I won’t criticize people for doing their jobs effectively!”
Tomys held up his hands in surrender. “I understand, sir, and I don’t blame the guards for killing him. But I’d dearly love to know who gave him that ten thousand. It wasn’t one of Jonas’ regular agents — they’re either in custody or under surveillance. That means that Jonas either has some deep-cover agents we don’t know about, or close contacts in the underworld.'
“I’d vote for the underworld contacts,” I put in. “I don’t think Jonas is intelligent enough or cares enough to have set up deep cover agents.”
