Between the Stars (20 page)

"This is Chih' Chin Fu," he said gravely, "reporting from near-Lunar orbit. Today, within an hour of the destruction of Mauritius and Easter Island, Earth sustained a massive attack from rock bombs. Of fifty that came in, forty-eight were obliterated before they reached Earth's atmosphere. Two got through to their targets. New York and Hong Kong were obliterated, with at least forty million dead."

There was a stunned silence as scenes of the devastation rolled across the holographic viewing area. "Generalissimo Shevket," Fu's voice went on, "has assumed dictatorial powers, decrying the state to which he claims the Earth First Party had allowed Earth's defenses to fall. He has demanded an explanation from Mr. Anthony Carstairs and has called for that official to be stripped of all powers. The general vows to take personal command of the fleet within the week and crush the Confederacy once and for all."

"We're ready to go in thirty days," Sieglinde said. She turned to Davidson. "How long before the Earth fleet begins to reach us?"

"Elements are already on their way," the general reported. "Shevket will merely take command of the flagship
Conqueror
, still in Earth's orbit. Leading elements should reach us within twenty-four days. We will, of course, intercept all of them if we can."

"Do it," she said. "Damn! We're so close!" She didn't waste time fretting. "If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make. I'm about to call in an old IOU. I think I can buy us the time we need. But don't count on it. Tell everybody redoubled effort is needed." She walked out.

"That woman," Isherwood said, "is utterly insane."

Ulric Kuroda stared at him bleakly. "I've always said so, but I'm her kinsman. How would you like a broken nose?"

FIFTEEN

Carstairs sat behind his desk, collar open, feet propped on the leather top, sleeves pulled up. He leaned back in his ancient, squeaky roller chair, a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale clutched in one of his powerful hands. Across from him, in holographic projection, sat Sieglinde Kornfeld-Taggart.

"Tony, it's never been my way to call in old favors, but I'll be honest with you. I'm desperate. It was due to my work that you were allowed to pretend that you won the last war. I'm asking you—"

"Say no more," Carstairs cut her off. "We go too far back for any of this nonsense. How much time do you need?"

"I have to have six days, Tony. Six days. After that, we'll be out of your hair and you Earthies can settle affairs any way you see fit. How about it?"

He ran a palm over his scalp. "Not much hair left for you to get out of," he said, "but I take your meaning. All right, luv, you'll have your six days." He was gratified to see how relieved she looked. At least somebody still believes I can deliver, he thought.

"Just one thing, Linde. I need to know something about your antimatter engine." She explained what he needed to know and he filed it away in the part of hisbrain that never forgot anything. "Fine. Listen, old girl, if we should live through this, what do you say we get hitched? Christ, between the two of us, we'll rule the galaxy in no time."

She smiled sadly. "Come out to Sigma Pavonis and I'll take you up on it." Then, seriously, "Tony, I'm going to miss you. You were the best enemy I ever had."

He raised his bottle. "You'll get your six days." He cut off the communication. He felt much better. He had long since decided what to do, but it helped to know that someone who counted would appreciate what he was up to. He drained the bottle and arranged for transportation to the flagship
Conqueror
.

He had himself driven to the port in his surface car, one with a human driver. "Let's go the long way," he told the uniformed man, "through London." The shuttle would wait for him, so there was no rush.

The city was densely packed, as always. The mood was different, though. Instead of the usual apathy, people were frightened or hysterical. The news about Hong Kong and New York had struck hard. They all knew that it might have been London instead. The younger crowd was rioting and demonstrating, calling for death to all offworlders. Offices of offworld businesses were being trashed, looted and burned, as were liquor stores and other establishments, more or less randomly.

He was interested to note that there were banners and placards calling for his own death. Many were professionally done, obviously made up well in advance for just such an occasion. That was Larsen's touch, he judged. He couldn't fault him for foresight and planning. He had always loved London. Now he found that he wasn't sorry to be leaving it behind. Maybe those bastards out there were right, he thought. Maybe this place just isn't worth saving. I hope they do a better job of it where they're going. I doubt it, though. It'll just be humanity buggering up all over again.

At the port, the military shuttle was ready to go. He got some strange looks as he boarded. Nobody was quite certain of his status. He seemed to be in disgrace, but nobody knew exactly what that meant. Carstairs' position had always been nebulous. "How long till we reach
Conqueror
?" he asked once they were spaceborne.

"Two hours until we dock," the commander said.

"Good. When we get there, I want you to be ready to take off all personnel."

"All personnel? But—"

"Can this shuttle hold them all?"

"Yes, easily, but—"

"Then see to it. I'm still head of the Defense Department, and I outrank all uniformed military personnel."

"Yes, sir."

When the man was gone, Carstairs reached into his briefcase and took out a bottle of Glenfiddich. "Put me in touch with Admiral Mboya," he ordered a communications computer.

Two hours later, the shuttle was dock-to-dock with the huge flagship. Carstairs pulled himself into the lock, queasy and reminded all over again why he hated going into space. Well, it won't be long this time, he thought. Mboya was at the lock to greet him.

"Sir, I must protest. We have all been at battle stations since the attack. We can't just—"

"You can," he said. "There won't be another attack. You can take my word for it. I still hold all my offices and they can't be taken from me without a convocation of the senior Party members and a U.N. Council meeting."

"But the generalissimo—"

"You let me handle the generalissimo. He's coming here to meet me soon. We're going to have our own private little conference right here aboard this vessel."

"I see. We shall stay nearby, ready to assume battle stations within an hour of notification."

"Fine, just don't stay too long. Now get along with you, Gus."

"Aye, aye, sir." The admiral turned to enter the shuttle, then he turned back. "And, sir, good luck."

The officers and crew of the ship pulled themselves through the lock in orderly fashion. It did not take long. The huge ship was largely automated and functioned with a crew of fewer than one hundred. The locks closed, there was a hiss of escaping air, and the two vessels drifted apart.

Carstairs checked his watch. Shevket wouldn't show up for several hours. His challenge was being delivered about now. It was still possible that things might go awry, but he was certain he had read the man accurately. He had dealt with numerous Shevkets in his time. He headed for the ship's utility section, back near the engine room. It was time to get to work.

Three hours later, sweaty from the effort, Carstairs was taking his ease on the bridge, clipped into the admiral's chair. Pretty lights blinked everywhere and there were all sorts of holo sets in evidence. He had always considered military power to be rather childish, but sitting here in this chair, he could understand how a warlord could get addicted to it.

A holo flashed on above him and he saw Shevket's flushed countenance. "Carstairs!"

"That's
Mister
Carstairs to you, Turk! I'm still your superior."

"Oh, be serious. Earth First is a thing of the past. I am seizing control of the U.N. Your political position means nothing. Armed force is everything and I have it."

"Come on in and let's talk it over," Carstairs invited.

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Oh? But I can see here on this little screen that your ship's not far from here."

"Yes. The fact is, I am coming aboard, but it's because I owe myself one satisfaction and I intend to collect on it. I imagine you were terribly surprised to find that the admiral had secured all the ship's weaponry when he left. That's according to regulations, by the way."

Carstairs' eyebrows arched. "Why should that disappoint me?"

"Don't insult my intelligence. It is obvious that you called for this meeting so that you could blast my ship out of space as I am calling."

"Oh. Well, best-laid plans of mice and men and all that. When shall I expect you?"

"Ten minutes." The image blinked out.

Carstairs finished the pint of Glenfiddich and let the bottle go drifting off wherever the interior breeze took it. When Shevket arrived in the lock, he wasn't alone. There were at least a dozen others with him, and Carstairs hoped one of them was Larsen.

When Shevket came onto the bridge, he was alone. He looked around him smugly. "I approve. You decided to stage our last meeting in a place of power. You wished for me to come to you, and I approve of that as well. You have a greater flair for the dramatic than I credited you with, Carstairs. Of course, it is still futile. This is my ship and therefore my power. And no one is ever going to see our last meeting. I ensured that you will broadcast no holos from this ship."

"Figure you're pretty safe, eh?"

"Oh, quite. Like everyone else who boards a military vessel, you were scanned in the lock. You came aboard unarmed, without explosives or poisons. All you have is your bare hands, and I assure you, should it come to that, I will best you. He tapped the hilt of the dagger he always wore.

"Actually, Mehmet, what I really wanted was a little talk. Satisfy my curiosity."

The Turk shrugged. "It can do no harm. What do you wish to know?"

"Well, I see how you've gained and consolidated power. Personally, I'm not sure why anybody wants to rule the world, but that's because I've done it for so long and know what a pain in the arse it is. But things like that look attractive when you've never experienced them. All very clever. But why did you destroy New York and Hong Kong? I know the defenses were perfect. It was your agents who brought those rocks here and you let some of them through. Why?" He hit a switch and a huge holo of the nearby planet appeared.

East Asia was showing, and a dark cloud of dust still hung over the area where Hong Kong had once been.

"Several reasons. There had to be a high body count in order to rouse some real war rage. And it had to be something inconsequential."

"Inconsequential? Forty million dead—you call that inconsequential?"

"Actually, it is closer to fifty million. No matter. One thing the planet has no shortage of is people. Just walking upright and babbling in some language doesn't make any creature valuable. Most useless of all are the urban destitute. New York? What importance has the place had for the last hundred years? There is no manufacture there. You yourself very wisely relocated all the world's banks to Zurich. What was there in New York but people? And what people! Nothing but useless blacks and the decadent remnants of the old United States, spawning Hispanics and the sweepings of the Caribbean. Nothing but useless mouths and empty bellies, most of them worthless even for purposes of war.

"Hong Kong was much the same, but its commercial enterprises were getting a little out of hand."

"So, this is as much your war on Earth as a war with the outerworlds?"

Shevket sneered and clasped his hands behind his back, booted feet widespread just as if he were standing solidly planted in a gravity environment. "The outerworld scum? What do I care for them? They are rivals for power, so they must be destroyed, and they must be seen to be destroyed. As for Earth, I shall build a better planet—one built on a healthy moral basis. Power, domination, masters, warriors, and slaves. No wonder an entire planet went mad, with the driveling nonsense of democracy and equality."

He snapped his whip against the leg of his boot. "Well, I shall change it all. In order to do it, I shall burn out these festering pockets of humanity. Believe me, Carstairs, in the future, there shall be far fewer, and far better, Earthmen."

Carstairs mused over the holograph of Earth. "It's still a pretty place, from this high up. Still blue ocean and green land and white clouds. I love the place, for all its faults. I'm not going to let you have it, you know."

Shevket laughed. "You're an old man, Carstairs, dreaming an old man's dreams. Give up your fantasies. It's time to finish this." His black-gloved hand closed around the coral dagger hilt.

"Just a moment. I've one last thing to show you." He touched a control and a small holograph appeared before his seat. "You see, I knew you'd come here, Shevket. I knew it because you're a bloody sadist, and all sadists have childish minds. You could never just have me killed. You had to come here and do it yourself so you could gloat like the child you are. You could never be satisfied until you heard me acknowledge your superiority. Well, Shevket, look at that. Do you know what that big cylinder is, down in the engine room?"

Shevket was shocked and honestly puzzled. "It's the antimatter drive. What of it?"

"More precisely, it's the antimatter chamber of the Ciano-Kornfeld field generator. Designed by a friend of mine, by the way—lady the name of Kornfeld-Taggart. She's a very clever woman and she made sure nobody would ever tamper with her engines by making her own seal for them. There's one way to get into one, though. See that item leaning against it? That's a laser shortbeam cutter. It's used in mining and heavy industrial applications, such as repairing battle damage on a ship like this."

He saw the realization dawning in Shevket's eyes. "Shevket, did you ever wonder what it's like when matter and antimatter collide?"

To his credit, Shevket did not waste an instant in words or inaction. He snatched out his dagger and launched himself at Carstairs in a single motion. The distance was too great, though. All Carstairs had to do was press a single switch.

"Something's coming in from Fu's Lunar station," said Roalstad. The council was wrapping up work for the shift. They were all very tired.

"We might as well see it," Isherwood said. "We can always hope it's good news." He was rewarded with a few dry chuckles.

Fu appeared in their midst. "Something extraordinary has occurred in Earth orbit. This evening, at 1800 hours Greenwich time, Earth Fleet flagship
Conqueror
was destroyed by an explosion of unknown origin. There are rumors that the ship was unmanned at the time, but all reports are contradictory. I will deliver further reports as they come in, but the U.N. has clamped down a complete news blackout. This is Fu, signing off."

"Now what the hell is this all about?" Ulric said.

Sieglinde looked even wearier than before. "That was Tony Carstairs buying us the time we need. Let's not waste it." She returned her attention to her tables of figures.

Derek was tired as well, but not so tired that he couldn't focus on his main worry. There were just a few days to launch. Where the hell was Valentina?

Daniko Vladyka finished a drink and eyed his followers. They were mostly inert from the long victory celebration. They had delivered their missiles, had the satisfaction of seeing Hong Kong and New York transformed with all their inhabitants into columns of ascending hot ash. Then Vladyka had accomplished their "getaway" with great panache. They had been carousing ever since.

"Just two," said Geronimo. "I wish it could've been all fifty!" His words were slurred to near-unintelligibility.