Marten picked it up.
“I’ll have to get up when everyone else is asleep.”
“Yes,” said Quirn.
Marten understood. With these new hours, he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with Molly. In other words, she’d have more time alone. And because he hadn’t been sent to the slime pits, Molly would surely be grateful to the hall leader. Very neatly done, Marten thought sourly. He looked at the slip of plex-paper again: Biocomp engineer.
…Interesting.
3.
“Ultimate victory demands objectivity. Due to their bioengineering, the Highborn rebels automatically have certain advantages. These can neither be wished away nor ignored. Simply stated, man for man the Highborn are smarter, quicker, stronger and perhaps even wiser. Their intense training also heightens their military advantages. Breakthrough ship design and technology has armed them with craft superior to any in the Solar System. Combined with a surprise assault, the genetic super-soldiers have gained mastery of Earth-Luna space.
“It can be expected that total enemy space-fleet control of Venus and Mercury will occur in short order.
“Recommendation: All fleet units randomly retreat into deep space until our superior production gives us a two to one advantage in ship tonnage.
“Army Units, it should be noted….”
***
The microphone snapped off. Even thought he couldn’t see them, Secret Police General James Hawthorne stared steely-eyed where the ancient men and women of the Directorate were sitting. Or he assumed they sat behind the polished surface in front of him. Otherwise, he sat alone at a table, a spotlight shining in his eyes and a mike in front of him.
Whoever sat behind the polished wall had been given the chance of a lifetime. The orbital bombardment that had destroyed Geneva had also slain the entire Social Unity Directorate and the SU General Assembly. These new members were a mystery to him and the world at large. He’d carefully studied the files of two aged women who had made it onto the Directorate. They were products of extreme longevity treatments. The others on the Directorate were still blanks to him, although he assumed most of them to be old. In any case, they had gained supreme rank in a single amazing bound. Which of them would come to dominate the Inner Planets hadn’t yet been thrashed out.
General Hawthorne wore the green uniform with red piping along the sleeves of Directorate Staff Planning. He was tall and gaunt with wispy blond hair, and many said he had the emotions of granite.
The wall speakers warbled into life.
“Our military ships are to flee?”
Whether a man or woman had spoken was impossible to tell. The shiny, metallic wall confronting General Hawthorne gave him no clue. Such caution bespoke the Directorate’s fear. Not fear of the Highborn, necessarily, but fear of his access to secret police files. The Geneva bombardment had stirred a hornet’s nest of intrigue and deadly political jockeying. No one trusted anyone—not that anyone really ever had. It was just many times worse now.
For all that, General Hawthorne had a war to run. He leaned toward the mike. “A strategic retreat, yes.”
“Don’t be fatuous, General.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Humph! Do you care to explain this, this
“Don’t they say he’s a military genius?” asked someone else.
General Hawthorne wished he had complete biographical data on these ultra ambitious men and women. A misstep could land him in the Brutality Room. His eyes tightened, and he dared ask, “Am I on trial?”
“Yes.”
“Then—”
“We will set the agenda, General.”
His bowels turned hollow. But General James Hawthorne clamped down on his fear.
A stylus moved against a plex-pad somewhere behind those polished surfaces. An audible
***
Transcript of Directorate Interrogation of Secret Police General James Hawthorne #4
10.9.2349
Q. Why do you recommend that our space fleets flee?
A. So they won’t be destroyed.
Q. Why do you assume automatic destruction?
A. The Highborn are superior to us, Director. We cannot ignore that basic fact.
Q. Nor am I—not that I accept your assumption. But for the sake of argument let us pretend I accept it. Why did you not suggest suicide tactics?
A. Too inefficient.
Q. (sarcastically) Granted I’m not an expert on strategy, General. But ultimate victory sometimes entails an inefficient use of resources. It’s better than giving up.
A. Agreed.
Q. Maybe you’d better explain yourself.
A. The Highborn have certain advantages, Director. What I wish to avoid is playing into those advantages.
Q. For instance?
A. For instance, they are superior soldiers in every conceivable way. Their strategies and tactics will probably prove superior throughout the conflict.
Q. Are you saying we can’t win?
A. Not at all.
Q. But if their strategies are superior, if they themselves are too… I don’t see how we can win.
A. History supplies us with several answers.
Q. By all means, please enlighten us, General.
A. We could liken the Highborn to the Spartiates of the ancient Greek world.
Q. Don’t you mean the Spartans?
A. No, Director. Spartiates were the full-fledged Spartans, the only ones with complete political rights and decision-making powers. They formed the core of the dreaded Spartan army, which was primarily composed of allies and
Q. I’m afraid you’ve lost us, General.
A. Sir… Director, the Spartiates as a class dwindled over the centuries. As they dwindled, so did the efficiency of the dreaded Spartan army. Like the Spartiates, the Highborn are few in numbers.
Q. You call over two million few?
A. In comparison to us, yes. My point is this, Director: When the Athenian General Cleon took one hundred and twenty Spartiates prisoner on the island of Sphacteria—
