The Unincorporated War (70 page)

The President was waiting for him—alone. Trang was surprised not to see Neela Harper. Maybe, thought Trang, a part of him had wanted the rumor to be true as well.

“Mr. President,” Trang said as he saluted precisely.

“Welcome, Grand Admiral,” said the President, returning the salute in a manner anything but precise. Then he smiled and gave Trang a formal bow. “How you doing, Sam?”

“Fine, Mr. President. I hope all is well with you.”

The President went to the bar and prepared vodka poured through crushed ice for himself and a Kentucky bourbon called Old Forester for Trang. “Could be better, Sam.” He handed Trang his drink and they sat opposite each other across the coffee table. “You
can
call me Hektor, you know.”

“Only if you make it an order, Mr. President.”

“Stupid thing to waste an order on, if you ask me.”

“I agree, Mr. President.”

“How’s the bourbon?”

“A lot better then the crap my father-in-law let me sell. The bastard always gave me lower end, saying I’d drive him out of business if he let me sell anything worth drinking.”

“Isn’t he the one now putting
your
face on his own brand of whiskey?”

“That’s the one. Calls it Trang’s Hellwater.”

“Sue the bastard,” said the President. “I can get you a great lawyer.”

Trang laughed. “He’s my father-in-law and my wife sacrificed a lot when she married me. I wasn’t a great prospect. But if I could ask one favor, sir.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“He’s supposed to be paying the royalty that would normally be going to me to a fund called In Aid of Victims of the War, IAVW for short.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” said Hektor. “Our justice department checked it out on a fraudulent war charities charge; completely groundless. So you’re not sure your father-in-law is donating your royalty. It should be a simple investigation.”

“I don’t want it to come to an investigation. If it came out that my own father-in-law was defaulting a contract to cheat a war charity …” Trang left it hanging. “I’m sorry to bother you with something so petty when you have real problems, sir; forget I brought it up.”

“Sam, your problems are not petty. You have to win this war for us and I will not have you distracted by a man not worthy to shine your boots. I promise you I’ll take care of this.” The President smiled at the only officer in the war he’d actually come to like. “It is OK if we kill him?”

Trang saw right away that the President was joking, but he couldn’t help smiling at the idea. “Well, I suppose if it’s not a p.d…. on second thought, better not.”

Hektor smiled, nodding, then looked quizzically at Trang. “You know what I don’t get about you?”

“Sir?” said Trang, confused with the direction of the conversation.

“Why are you so different from every other officer who comes in here?”

Trang shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes remained keen.

“I’ve had admirals demand more ships, and more men,” the President continued. “One complained that he needed a new title and a few wanted my help in the corporate world to get rid of some of their subordinates. They complained about everything and of course nothing was their fault. Do you know that you have never officially complained about any of your assignments? I checked, Sam, not once.”

Trang chuckled. “Sir, it’s my job to make do with what you can give me. You can’t give me what you don’t have and I know you want to win the war as much as I do, so you’re not going to hold back anything unless you have a damned good reason. So my reasoning is why pester you over things you’re already doing? As for a new title, the one I have is foolish enough, thank you; Grand Admiral, my ass. As for my officers,” Trang’s entire demeanor changed into the battle admiral with not an ounce of mercy, “if one of them is too incompetent to fight and too stupid to realize it there are ways to alleviate the fleet of that burden before they get too many of our people killed.”

As he said this he looked right in the President’s eyes. Trang knew his President understood his meaning and did not flinch from it. He may have been the admiral who’d flung twenty-five million people to their deaths, but the President was the man who’d ordered Trang to do so and had supplied the bodies.

After a moment the President’s lips parted into a sly grin. “Like I said, I don’t understand you, Sam, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“It’s not really my money, sir. I only have it because of the war. If I earned it as some say it’s only because of the blood and death of the spacers and marines under me. That’s money I don’t want, ever. It should go back to them. But something tells me you didn’t call me all the way over from the 180 to discuss charities and my sterling character.”

“Sam,” Hektor said, nodding in agreement and then finishing off his drink, “I’ll be straight with you. If we don’t have a clear-cut victory in Alliance territory in the next three months the war is pretty much over.”

Trang put his glass of bourbon down. “Mr. President, I can guarantee in a year the belt will be broken. It’s just numbers and we have them. The Alliance is cracking. It would’ve happened sooner, but they managed to shore up their lines with the reinforcements from their new trauma treatment, but it’s only delaying the inevitable outcome. The more we throw at them, the more they’ll have to split their defense. My attacks are orchestrated to make them thin out at all points while I quietly build up a massive force at Eros. Once both of our sides are exhausted I’ll send the second, overwhelming wave and the depleted Alliance fortifications will shatter all at once like a cheap crystal glass.” Trang produced a data card from his pocket and then connected it to the holo in the coffee table.

“This area here shows the thinning that’s already taken place. We’re not attacking here anymore because it’s already been thinned out enough and they don’t have enough reserves to rebuild. Here’s the projection showing how the Alliance has to respond given the manpower differences. When the belt cracks we’ll have half their population and many of their accessible resources. I can only hope they won’t scatter but will stick around to defend Ceres. If they do that, the war will end because we’ll be able to have it out with the bulk of their fleet in one location, but we have to assume the worst. We have to assume they’ll fall back, evacuate Ceres, and make a stand in the outer systems. But then it’ll be fleet-to-fleet combat and we can choose our place of attack better than they can. They may be willing to end the war when all hope of victory is gone, but if not, it’ll be only a year or two more.”

Hektor reviewed the material with a detached deference. “Sam,” he said, turning away from the graphs, “I’m sure everything you’re telling me here is true. In fact, I don’t doubt a single word. But we don’t have a year.” Hektor manipulated the holo-panel and replaced Trang’s presentation with one of his own. It showed a series of graphs, surveys, polls, and projections. It may not have been Trang’s area of expertise, but he was able to ascertain the message.

He exhaled deeply. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“We’re not advertising it, I can assure you, but the truth is, the public is tired
of the war. It’s been five years, and other than Eros and the space around it, we really don’t have much more than we started with. Yes, you’ve plowed your way through millions of miles of rocks, but in the public’s mind that’s all they are—rocks. We can’t jump the belt, Tully showed us the folly of that, and all we’ve been doing is getting ground up inside of it. Every time we go into Alliance space we get the crap beat out of us—no disrespect to you or your forces.”

“None taken, sir,” Trang answered somberly. “It’s the facts. Our troops are getting better over time, but like your charts showed, we may soon be out of that.”

Hektor nodded. “It doesn’t help anymore that every time they wander into our space we beat the crap out of them. The losses have gotten large enough in both traumatized and dead that almost everyone knows someone who’s suffered. And don’t even get me started on the economic havoc. The people don’t see this stalemate ever ending. Which is why we need a win. It can’t be little and it can’t be in our territory, no matter how significant. We need a big victory in their space. We need to take something or do something that even the most obtuse penny can understand and grab on to. Anything less and I may as well call for armistice talks now.”

“We’re so close, Mr. President. How can we just stop after five years of blood and sacrifice? They have to realize what will happen if the solar system stays split down the middle.”

“Some do, Sam, but not enough. This has been Cord’s plan all along. He doesn’t have to win the war. He just has to survive it. If we keep our will, we cannot lose this war. If we lose it, we cannot win. So back to the question: Can you get us that victory in three months, or do we quit now? I’m not going to waste any more lives if it’s not going to do any good.”

Trang furrowed his brow, leaned back into his chair, and exhaled deeply. All the information about the war was pounding in his brain. He did have a plan, any good officer had backup contingencies, but the one he was thinking of was incredibly risky—especially when faced with opponents as good as the ones in the belt. Maybe even harder—having to bury the plan he’d been nurturing since he took command of all the UHF forces. Trang took another deep breath and nodded solemnly.

“It’s possible, sir.”

“Let me be clear, Admiral,” Hektor said, staring hard into the man’s eyes. “You are
ordered
to win. You may use what ever means necessary and what ever resources you have. If you have to take an action that has moral or legal ramifications, I’m again
ordering
you to ignore them. Just win.”

“I’d better get started then, sir.”

“Yes, you had,” said Hektor, getting up out of his chair. With that Trang sprang up, saluted, and left the office practically running for his shuttle.

Soon after Trang had departed, Neela emerged from a side office.

“Do you think he can do it?” Hektor asked.

Neela considered her answer. “I know he thinks he can do it. You rigged the projections, though, didn’t you?”

Hektor smiled mischievously. “Well, maybe a little. It’s more like six months, but truthfully, I have no idea what the margin of error will be.”

Neela nodded. “You’re right about him. It’s remarkable that with all he could ask for and all that I’m quite sure he knows you could give him, the only thing he requests is that you safeguard his charity.”

“Honey, I can’t take credit. You were right about him. And by you being right I mean I was completely wrong.”

“I must admit,” Neela said with a giggle, “you know what a girl likes to hear. What are we going to do about his little charity problem?”

Hektor gave the matter some thought and then smiled. “I think this is a problem that Amanda can handle. It involves money, suggestion, and discretion. Plus it’ll require a trip to Earth, with layovers in its more important business centers, and we both know what that means, don’t we?”

“Darling, that’s an inspired suggestion. Of course while she’s gone you and I will not be able to be alone together.”

“Well, screw that then. I’ll just have the SOB shot!”

“Darling, she’ll only be gone for six weeks, two months tops. I do not want to hurt her. The rumors are bad enough, but as long as Amanda is here and is your obvious companion then that’s all they’ll ever be—rumors. If I’m seen entering or leaving a room with you alone while Amanda is on another planet, the rumors turn to gossip, and that’s another category.” She saw he was about to say something and interrupted, “And you will not break up with her when she comes back. Amanda is a sweetheart and my friend. To do that would embarrass her. Besides, she makes a marvelous companion at all the official dinners and balls. She has such an alluring air of maturity about her.”

“Neela, I’d like nothing more than to have you by my side at every one of those functions. You’d be marvelous as my companion, wife, mistress, or anything else.”

“You really think I’d be just as beautiful as Amanda?”

Hektor came up to her, took her in his arms, and said, “Without any doubt—more beautiful.”

Neela snuggled up close to him and it looked like she was about to kiss him passionately, but she got a pixieish grin on her face when their lips were mere
centimeters apart. “You are
so
whipped.” She twisted gracefully out of his grasp and headed out the door.