Mission of Honor-ARC (82 page)

Yet for all the years which had been plowed into Darius, all the effort, all the generations of labor, the fact remained that its space stations and shipyards were significantly less capable than Manticore's had been prior to Oyster Bay. Benjamin Detweiler didn't like admitting that, but he agreed with his father; the day someone stopped admitting the truth was the day he could kiss any of his hopes for the future goodbye. And the truth was that, despite the accomplishments of the Alignment's R&D, and despite any tactical advantages which might accrue from the streak drive and the spider, very few star nations could have matched the industrial efficiency of the Star Empire of Manticore. Indeed, Benjamin suspected that even Manticore had failed to grasp just how great an advantage it possessed in that regard.

Over the last five or six T-years, he and Daniel had been trying to introduce Manticoran practices here at Darius, only to discover that the task wasn't as simple and forthright as it ought to have been. If they'd really wanted to duplicate Manticore's
efficiency
, they would've had to duplicate Manticore's entire industrial base—and its society—and they simply couldn't do that. Their labor force was extraordinarily good at following orders, extremely well trained, and highly motivated, but the kind of independence of thought which characterized Manticoran workers wasn't exactly something which had been encouraged among the slave workers of Darius. Even if it had been, their basic techniques and technologies were simply
different
from Manticore's. Better than the majority of League star systems could have produced, if those other star systems had only realized it, yet still at least a full generation behind the Manties.

"I wish we'd taken out more of their wall, too, Father," he said finally. "On the other hand, the point about their missile supply is extremely well taken. Especially if we can get them to use up most of the ones they've got on the Sollies."

"I know."

Albrecht sipped more wine, then looked down into his glass.

"I know," he repeated, "but I've been thinking. I know they got away from us in the yards, but we know where they
are
, and—"

"No, Father."

The two words came out very firmly, and Albrecht looked up to see Benjamin sitting back from the table and folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, there was something almost comical about the father's wheedling expression and the stern light in the son's eyes.

"I know what you're about to say, Father," Benjamin continued. "In fact, Dan and Collin and I figured it might occur to you as soon as we realized we hadn't caught as many ships in the yards as we'd hoped."

"So the three of you sat down and discussed it behind my back, is that it?" Albrecht's voice could have been ominous, but instead, it was almost quizzical, and Benjamin shrugged.

"You're the one who put me in charge of the Navy, Daniel in charge of research, and Collin in charge of intel, Father. I don't think you did it because you expected us to sit on our brains."

"No, you're right about that," Albrecht acknowledged.

"Well, since we were using them as something besides cushions, it occurred to us to think the same thing you're thinking. If Topolev and Colenso could get into Manticore and Yeltsin's Star undetected, why not do the same thing to Trevor's Star? Pick off the warships we didn't get first time around?"

"That
is
what I was thinking," Albrecht said. "From your response, I'm assuming the three of you decided it wasn't such a great idea after all?"

"Oh, the
idea'
s just fine, Father. The problem is how likely it is that we wouldn't get away with it. Let's face it, Oyster Bay was in many ways a one-off operation. It succeeded because the Manties didn't have a clue about our capabilities. Well, now they do—have a clue, I mean. They still don't know how we did it, but they damned well know we
did
do it, and if nothing else, they're going to be pouncing on every 'ghost footprint' their hyper sensors pick up with everything they've got. And, frankly, the fact that
we
haven't been able to come up with an effective detector for the spider drive doesn't fill me with unbounded confidence that the Manties might not have something we don't even know about that could do the job. I think it's
unlikely
, but I'm not prepared to assume it's impossible.

"So looking at it from the perspective of getting in in the first place, things would be a lot more iffy a second time around—especially a second time around that came close on the heels of Oyster Bay."

Benjamin looked across the table at his father until Albrecht nodded to show he was following so far.

"Secondly," Benjamin continued then, "the force levels we'd require would actually be higher. Oyster Bay succeeded because we could plan on achieving total surprise and our targets were civilian installations. They weren't armored, they didn't have any active or passive defenses in operation, and they couldn't dodge. After what happened to their home system, I can guarantee you no one as experienced as the Manties is going to let us catch their
battle fleet
under circumstances like that. At the very minimum, their impellers are going to be permanently hot. Most likely, they'll have minimum station-keeping wedges up, for that matter, and they're going to have their damned FTL recon platforms deployed widely enough to give them plenty of time to get wedges and sidewalls fully up before
anything
gets close enough to attack. So we'd need a hell of a lot more firepower to achieve decisive results, and, unfortunately, the
Sharks
are too small—and we don't have enough of them—to provide that level of combat power. Worse, in a lot of ways, they're too fragile to survive the kind of damage Manty laserheads can hand out.

"And that brings me to the third point, which is—and, frankly, Father, I think this is probably the most important consideration—that we literally
cannot
afford to lose the
Sharks
. More specifically, we can't afford to lose their
crews
. The people aboard those ships right now are the seed corn for the crews of the ships we're building here in Darius. We've just blown an enormous hole in the Manties' trained manpower, one that's going to be a huge factor in how long it takes them to recover from Oyster Bay. Given the way things are proceeding, and given our own operational and strategic planning, we can't afford to have the same thing happen to us. We're going to be in the position of having to enormously expand our naval personnel no matter what happens, and we don't have the institutional base the Manties do. We
need
every single one of the men and women who carried out Oyster Bay. We need their skills and their experience, and we need them
here—
alive—not vaporized at Trevor's Star."

"Do you really think that would be a likely outcome?" Albrecht asked after several seconds. His tone was curious, not confrontational, and Benjamin shrugged again.

"Frankly? No. I don't think the attack would be anywhere near as successful as Oyster Bay was, and I think giving the Manties another look—or the
chance
for another look, anyway—at our new hardware would be risky, but I don't really think they'd be likely to detect, track, and kill the
Sharks
wholesale. Unfortunately, 'don't think they'd be likely to' isn't a very good basis for operational planning. One thing you taught all of us a long time ago was that we can't
make
the universe be what we want it to be, so we'd better figure out what it really
is
and factor that into our planning. And in this case, the potential return, even assuming everything went near perfectly, doesn't begin to compare to the potential damage we'll take if everything
doesn't
go near perfectly."

Albrecht sat in evident thought for a few moments, then finished the wine in his glass and set it back down on the table.

"You're right. I didn't put any of you boys where you are just so you could watch me make mistakes. And I hadn't really thought about all the implications you've just pointed out. I still wish we could do it, but you're right. The last thing we need to do is to start making the kind of 'we're invincible' mistakes those jackasses in the League are making. As Isabel would have said, this isn't the time for us to be flying by the seat of our pants if we don't have to."

"Thank you, Father," Benjamin said quietly.

"In the meantime, though," his father said rather more briskly, "I want you and Daniel to come to Mannerheim with me."

"Excuse me?" Benjamin looked at him quizzically, and Albrecht snorted.

"Hurskainen and the others will all be there, and I want you two along to answer any questions—with due regard for operational security, of course—they may have about Oyster Bay."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If you want us there, we'll come, of course. On the other hand, do we really want to be answering questions about the new systems and the new hardware?"

"That's a very well taken point," Albrecht acknowledged. "On the other hand, these people have all demonstrated their ability to maintain operational security, or we'd never have gotten as far as we have. I think a couple of them are feeling a bit nervous now, though. The way we accelerated Oyster Bay came at them cold, and while I wouldn't say any of them are experiencing what I'd call second thoughts, I do think the . . . anxiety quotient, let's say, is a bit higher than we might like."

He paused until Benjamin nodded, then he shrugged.

"In its own way, this meeting's going to be even more critical than Oyster Bay was. No one's going public, but we'll be very quietly activating the Alignment as an actual star nation. That's going to represent a huge step, and one we're not going to want to make public until the League's started to show a few surface fissures, at least. But once we begin the process, we're going to have to bring in successively lower levels in all of our members star systems' governments. The fact that we're up to
something
is, frankly, likely to leak out a lot sooner than we'd really prefer. I doubt very much that anyone on the outside is going to figure out what we're
really
up to, but that's not going to guarantee we won't have a few dicey moments in the not too distant future. And most of the people who're going to be in Mannerheim for our little meeting didn't get where they are by being stupid. It's going to occur to them, too, that we're looking at what's in many ways our greatest period of vulnerability over the next T-year or two. That being the case, I'd like them to feel as reassured as possible about the hardware we used in Oyster Bay."

"And if they ask me whether or not we have all that hardware really and truly
operational
?"

"If they ask you that, you admit the
Sharks
were originally intended primarily as prototypes and training vessels, and you don't pretend we have more of them than we do," Albrecht said promptly. "The last thing we need to do is to trip ourselves up by lying to these people—or to ourselves. But at the same time, I think you should point out to them that our plans always envisioned their 'system-defense forces' as the real basis of our joint naval strength, at least in the opening stages. There are
eleven
of them, for God's sake! None of them may be all that huge in isolation, but when you combine them, they get a hell of a lot more impressive. What the MAN represents at this stage is our hole card, the ace we have stuffed up our sleeve just in case we need it. I want them to be aware we have that card and that we can play it if we have to. And I'd like them to recognize that the fleet we're building will have exactly the same capabilities—only better—and be a hell of a lot bigger. I don't want them worrying about whether or not we'll be ready to take center stage as planned when the time comes just because we moved Oyster Bay ahead."

"I see."

It was Benjamin's turn to sit thinking for several seconds. At length, he looked up, met his father's eyes again, and nodded.

"All right, Father. I see what you're saying, and I think Dan and I can probably provide the . . . comfort quotient you're looking for. As long as they're not expecting us to sail our invincible fleet of invisible superdreadnoughts right into Old Earth orbit next week, at any rate!"

Albrecht Detweiler sat back in his chair and contemplated the true crown jewels of the "onion" his ancestors had spent so long building.

The conference room in which he sat was probably, at that moment, the most carefully protected, eavesdropping-proof conference room in the entire explored galaxy. If it wasn't, he reflected wryly, it certainly wasn't for lack of trying. This meeting was just as important, and probably even more critical, than Oyster Bay had ever been.

For all its security, it was a large, comfortable chamber, decorated with light sculpture masterpieces carefully chosen from each of the star systems represented by the people in it. Each of the chairs around the enormous table at the center of the room had cost enough to put a student through college on most Fringe planets, and the console in front of each of them was equipped with every conceivable feature . . . including the very latest in security systems.

The people seated around the table looked right at home in the understated elegance and clean beauty of the conference room's decor, and for very good reason. Every one of the others was actually rather more physically attractive than Detweiler himself, offering a level of physical beauty that was really quite remarkable. In fact, it was even more remarkable when one saw them all gathered in one place, but that was inevitable. The advantage which physical attractiveness bestowed upon any politician, regardless of the political system in which he worked, appeared to be one of the unchanging verities of the human condition.

Counting Detweiler himself, there were an even dozen people seated at the table and, extraordinarily unusual though it was, none of the others was accompanied by a single attendant or aide. It was probably the first time that had been true for most of them in at least twenty T-years, Detweiler thought, which was fairly amusing. He himself had always been as hands-on as possible, and he actually treasured solitude in which to get on with his current project. Most of the others had succumbed, to one extent or another, to the desire to underscore their importance (if only to themselves) by surrounding themselves with at least a small core of assistants. Yet this time around, he was flanked by three of his sons—Benjamin, Collin, and Daniel—while the others sat unaccompanied.