The construction floating in space was in the form of a hollow square. It measured over five hundred miles along a side. From each of its corners a bar, twenty miles thick, extended diagonally inward to support the two-hundred-mile-diameter sphere held in the center. The surfaces of the outer square bristled with angular protuberances, sections of ribbing, and domed superstructures, all etched harshly in black and shades of metallic gray, and immense windings girded parts of the central sphere and its supporting members. Receding away into space behind it, a line of identical objects spaced at two-thousand-mile intervals diminished in size with distance until they were lost in the background of stars.
Imares Broghuilio, formerly Premier of the Jevlenese faction of Thurien and now Overlord of the recently proclaimed Independent Protectorate of Jevlenese Worlds, stood in his black Supreme Military Commander’s uniform, his arms folded across his chest, and scowled out at the scene from inside a blisterdome on the hull of a spacecraft riding several thousand miles off. Low to one side, the dark, rugged sphere of the planet Uttan hung as a crescent against the blackness, appearing the size of a tennis ball held at arm’s length. Wylott and a number of generals from various commands of the Jevlenese military were standing behind him with Estordu and a handful of civilian advisors. To one side, not looking very happy, were Niels Sverenssen and Feylon Turl, technical coordinator of the quadriflexor construction program.
Broghuilio waved an arm at the scene outside. "We have been forced to revise our timetables just as drastically and in just as little time," he said curtly, glaring at Turl. "I expect you to do at least as well."
"But engineering on this scale can’t be accelerated by that kind of factor simply by ordering it to be," Turl protested. "We are still short by fifty units. It will take two years at least, even with round-the-clock shifts in all critical—"
"Two years is unacceptable," Broghuillo said flatly. "I’ve given you our requirement, and I want your confirmation, today, that it will be met as stipulated. Tell me what can be done for a change. The Protectorate is now operating on a war economy, and whatever resources are needed will be made available."
"It isn’t simply a question of production resources," Turl insisted. "The power to transfer that number of quadriflexors to the target won’t be available for two years. Crallort’s latest estimates show that—"
"Crallort has been removed," Broghuilio informed him. "That office is now under military control. The generator battery will be expanded under an emergency program that is already in effect, and the power requirement will be met as stipulated."
"I—" Turl began, but Broghuilio cut him off with an impatient motion of his hand.
"You have until twenty-four hours from now to discuss the revisions with your staff. I shall expect you at the Directorate of Strategic Planning on Jevlen at that time to report. I will not expect to hear lame excuses. Do I make myself understood?"
"Yes, Excellency," Turl mumbled.
Subvocally Broghuilio instructed JEVEX to remind him later in the day to review possible candidates for Turl’s replacement at Uttan, then turned his eyes contemptuously toward Sverenssen. "And it appears that my ‘able lieutenant’ who was supposed to have had the situation on Earth ‘well under control’ is equally incompetent," he sneered. "Well, what have you been able to find out? How did the Thuriens manage to communicate with Terrans right under your noses? Where is their facility located? What is your plan to eliminate it? How did they penetrate your operation? Who has been betraying it? I hope you have good answers, Sverenssen."
"I must protest," Sverenssen said in a shocked voice. "Yes, I admit that the Thuriens did establish a link somehow. But the accusation that we have allowed our operation to be penetrated is without foundation. There is no evidence to—"
"Then you are either blind or stupid!" Broghuilio spat. "I was there, in Thurios. You were not. I tell you they knew everything. The Terrans must have turned half the imbeciles in your organization and had them working against us for years. How long have they had a link on Earth direct into VISAR?"
"We. . . . have not been able to ascertain that yet, Excellency," Sverenssen admitted.
"Obviously since long before they started anything on Farside," Broghuilio said. "The whole Bruno operation was a façade to fool you and keep you occupied, and you swallowed every inch of it." He screwed up his face and mimicked a fawning tone. "‘We have gained complete control, Excellency,’ I was told. Pah!" Broghuilio slammed a fist into his other palm. "Control! They were manipulating you like a puppet. They probably have been for years. Overlord of Earth? You’d be a laughingstock trying to govern a kindergarten." Sverenssen paled, and his jaw strained, but he said nothing.
Broghuilio raised his arms in front of the rest of the company as if inviting them to witness his predicament. "You see what I have to contend with—imbecile engineers and imbecile agents. And what of you? Clearly the enemy will not sit idly by and do nothing while we complete our preparations. But we are told that it will take two years. Thus we have a problem situation that demands some form of action now, while we retain the initiative. What are your plans?"
Some of the generals looked uncertainly at one another. Eventually Wylott replied hesitantly, "We are still analyzing the latest developments. The situation calls for a complete revision of every—"
"Never mind your academic analyses and evaluations. Do you have firm plans drawn up for offensive action, now, to secure our position while the quadriflexor program is being completed?"
"No, but we’ve never—"
"The general does not have a plan," Broghuilio told the rest of them. "You see—on all sides I have to deal with imbeciles. But fortunately for all of us, I do have a plan. Our weapons production program here at Uttan has begun showing results, has it not? We have ships, armaments, and sufficient generating capacity to transfer them to Gistar at once, while the Thuriens have nothing. It is a time for boldness."
Wylott seemed worried. "That is not the way we have always intended," he said. "Our plans have never included launching an unprovoked assault on Thurien. The weapons were to be used against the Cerians. We would find it hard to justify such an action to the people. It would not be popular."
"Did I say anything about attacking Thurien?" Broghuillo asked. "Can you conceive of no methods other than brute force and clumsiness? Have you no sense of subtlety?" He turned his head to address all present. "War is as much a matter of psychology as it is of weapons, and in particular of understanding the psychology of one’s enemy. Study the history of Earth, or even of Minerva. Many great victories have been won by seizing an opportune psychological moment And such a moment presents itself to us now."
"What are you proposing?" Estordu asked uneasily. "That we might intimidate Thurien into submission?"
Broghuilio looked at him in surprise and with unconcealed approval. "For a scientist you are thinking quickly for once," he said. He raised his voice. "You hear? The scientist is thinking more like a general than any of you. The Thuriens have no taste for war, nor even any concept of it. At this moment they believe that we have retreated into a shell and will not trouble them for a long time to come. They feel secure for the time being, and that is why they are vulnerable."
He strode slowly to one side of the dome and stared out at the distant ball of Uttan for a few seconds. Then he came back to the center and resumed, "I will tell you what the Thuriens are thinking at this moment. They realize that we present a threat which they do not have the stomach to face, but which the Terrans do. On the other hand they possess the technology necessary to counter that threat, whereas the Terrans do not. So what will be their obvious strategy?"
Wylott was beginning to nod slowly. "To arm and equip the Terrans as proxy troops," he said. "Thurien will enlist Earth to fight on its behalf."
"Exactly!" Broghuilio exclaimed. "But Earth is demilitarized and not competent to match us technically anyway, and at this moment the Thuriens have nothing to arm them with." He looked around with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "In other words their solution will require time. But we do not need time because right now we have something, and they have nothing. Our forces might be small compared to what they will be in times to come, but that situation gives us a ratio of something to zero, which equates to infinite superiority. That advantage will not exist indefinitely, and it will never again be in our favor to the extent that it is now. And that is why the time to act is now, and not later."
Wylott’s eyes gleamed as he began to see what Broghuillo was driving at. "With self-powered ships we can send a task force in and issue an ultimatum to the Thuriens to place VISAR under our control," he said. "Being Ganymeans, they will have no choice. Then they’d be helpless, and we would assume full control of the combined empires of JEVEX and VISAR."
"And the Terrans will be deprived of their armorers," Broghullb completed. "In two years they could never hope to match us without the Thuriens. Thus we will have bought the time we need to complete our preparations for dealing with Earth, and for neutralizing Thurien permanently." He turned to confront Wylott squarely, folded his arms across his chest, and stuck out his chin. "That, General, is the plan—my plan."
"A stroke of genius," Wylott declared. A chorus of murmurs from the ranks behind endorsed the statement. "We will commence detailed preparations at once."
"See to it," Broghuilio ordered. He turned and glowered at Sverenssen. "And you, if you think you have the ability to redeem yourself, go back to Earth. I want every one of the traitors in your organization uncovered, tracked down, and dealt with. All except Rank B2 and above. Those are to be held while we arrange a landing to bring them back to Jevlen. I will deal with them personally." His voice fell to an ominous growl, and his eyes smoldered. "And if you fail in this, Sverenssen, you will certainly be brought back, even if I have to come physically to Earth myself to do it."