Ramos Broder (5966-6063 G.E.) who not only brought some measure of stability to the military after the fearful events of 5993, but also managed to ferret out Wain Connough, the prime mover in the death of the Oligarchic Era... —
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“He was the first,” said Broder. “He showed them how far one man could come. It was only a matter of time before the other warlords would figure out just how much farther they could get if they banded together.”
“But even Grath never managed to win them over to his side,'’ protested Quince. “He tried right up until his final push toward Deluros.”
“First they had to see that it could be done,” said Broder. “They had to know that an outlaw force, properly marshaled, could attack the Navy and get away with it. Also, Grath didn't need them.”
“In the end he did.”
“They wouldn't have done him any good,” said Broder. “There couldn't have been a hundred million men
in the employ of all the warlords in Grath's heyday. Now things are different. They number between four
and five billion. Look at the map.” The two men turned their eyes to the illuminated spiral. “They've made huge inroads, absolutely huge. And since they haven't got anyone with Grath's talents, they're content to pick the Oligarchy to shreds, bit by bit, along the outskirts of the frontiers.” “Then why worry?” asked Quince. “It'll be eons before they turn their eyes toward Deluros.” “I doubt it.”
“Why?” asked Quince.
“Two reasons,” said Broder. “First, sooner or later they've got to realize what Grath knew all along: that the quickest way to conquer the Oligarchy is to conquer Deluros. And second, that the only other way to conquer the Oligarchy is to pick it to pieces, which means they'll be thirty generations removed from the warlords who finally land here.”
“Then you expect a strike on Deluros?”
Broder shrugged. “If it was me, yes, I'd buck the odds and attack. With them, who knows? Hell, they probably spend more time fighting among themselves than against the Navy. Still, they'll be coming one of these days.”
The conversation ambled on a little longer, and then Broder returned to his office. As second in command of the Navy's defense forces at Deluros, it was his job to keep troops and fleet in a state of preparedness ... and wait.
It had been a long wait. Grath had made it to within almost two thousand light-years before the Navy lowered the boom, and no warlord had had the temerity to come that close again. Sooner or later they'd try again, get a couple of light-years closer, and be repelled or destroyed again. And he, Admiral Ramos Broder, honor graduate from the Deluros Military Academy, author of two highly-praised volumes on the tactics of space war, former ambassador to Canphor VI, would grow old and die, awaiting the opportunity to prove his mettle in battle. On course, he thought with a tight grin, there was job security aplenty. But one of the problems with job security was that the men ahead of you also had it, and you weren't likely to advance until they died or retired. That was all right for men like Quince, but not for him: He wanted a position commensurate with his abilities, and he wouldn't be getting one unless and until those abilities were tested. At which time, he concluded, half the people above him would have been killed and he'd advance anyway. Neither the thoughts nor the frustrations were new to him. Far from it. He'd lived with them for years now, though the passage of time hadn't exactly mellowed him. Which was why he had agreed to see the man who was being ushered into his office. “Connough?” he asked, extending his hand. The man nodded. He was very tall, quite rangy, with large blue eyes that darted back and forth across the office, taking in windows, intercoms, and all the paraphernalia of bureaucracy. Broder turned to his aide. “No calls, no visitors, no communication of any sort and no monitoring. Understood?”
The aide acknowledged the orders and left the office.
“I realize that you've taken a great personal risk in coming here,” said Broder. “May I assure you that no record of this meeting will be kept, and that should your presence become known, I will authorize safe passage for you to whatever destination you desire.” Connough grunted, still looking around. “You are free to examine the room,” offered Broder. Connough took one last look, then shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” “Fine,” said Broder. “Now let's get down to business. First of all, just how did you manage to get here without credentials?”
“I have credentials,” said Connough, flashing them. “I expressed myself poorly,” said Broder. “I realize, of course, that you would have the necessary identification to reach my office. What I'm curious about is how you ever got out to the Rim and back without being detained at one end or the other.” “I have my ways,” said Connough.
“Not good enough,” said Broder. “If I am even to consider entering this enterprise I must have straight answers. Otherwise you're just wasting my time and yours.” “It's a big galaxy, Admiral, and it's impossible to guard every spaceway. My organization has numerous small trading ships, and it was a simple matter to forge credentials to the effect that I owned and operated one, and that I had trading rights to several of the frontier worlds. Belasko knew I was coming, and I had no problem getting through his military cordon around the Belthar system.” “Belasko!” said Broder. “You met him in person?” Connough nodded.
“Can you prove that to me?”
Connough withdrew a small plastic card. “You'll find Belasko's thumbprint on this. Run it through your computer and check it out.”
Broder did so, and a few minutes later the computer reported that the thumbprint did indeed belong to Belasko, the kingpin of the loosely knit confederation of warlords. “How did Belasko react to your proposition?” “Pretty much as I anticipated,” said Connough. “In exchange for Sirius V, Lodin XI, and their spheres of economic and military influence, he'll do what we ask.” “And what, precisely, is that?”
“That he make a feint at the Binder system when instructed, and that he publicly acknowledge his loyalty
to Deluros in exchange for total amnesty.” “In that order, I hope,” said Broder with a smile. “This is deadly serious business, Admiral,” said Connough. “I fail to see any humor in the situation.” “No, I don't suppose you would,” said Broder. “All right, on to the next point. How many men are in your organization?”
“That, I am afraid, is privileged information until such time as you commit yourself,” said Connough. “Fair enough. Answer this much: Do you have at least twenty thousand men on Deluros VIII?” “No.”
“I thought not,” said Broder. “Ten thousand?” “I'm not here to play guessing games, Admiral,” said Connough. “Let's just say that we have more than enough.”
“I very much doubt it, though I'll let it pass for the moment,” said Broder. “You haven't asked the question that must be the most important to you,” remarked Connough. “Oh?” said Broder. “And what is that?”
“Why, of all people on Deluros VIII, we contacted you.” “The thought did cross my mind,” said Broder. “However, it wasn't all that difficult to deduce. To begin with, nothing in my writings or speeches could have given you any indication whatsoever that I might be sympathetic to your cause, or that I wouldn't have you put to death for treason. And with an enterprise of this nature, you sure as hell didn't draw my name out of a hat. So it wasn't too difficult to figure out that what you wanted wasn't necessarily me, but the man holding my job. I just happened to be here; depending on the timing, you could have used my predecessor or my successor just as easily. “The only question remaining was: Why
