Cling.
At the sound of the console chime, the officer in dress grays stiffened, though he did not leave the straight-backed chair.
“Yes, Commander. Yes, sir.”
The orderly’s voice, soft as it was, carried through the outer office, a room empty except for the orderly and a Major in a gray uniform and recently cut black hair.
“Major Wright?”
“Yes.” The Major stood, flexing his broad shoulders, shoulders that did not seem as broad as they were in view of his equally broad torso and muscular lower body. He looked through the orderly, who avoided looking in the direction of his eyes.
“You may go in, sir. Commander Hersnik is ready to see you…sir.”
“Thank you.” The Major’s voice was expressionless.
The orderly continued avoiding any eye-to-eye contact with the Major until the Special Operative had passed him and was stepping through the security portal to the Commander’s office.
The security portal flashed green, signifying that the Major carried neither weapons nor energy concentrations on his body, not that he would have required either to deal with the single senior Commander who awaited him.
Major Wright stepped from the portal ramp onto the deep gray carpet and halted, coming to attention before the Commander. The Commander sat behind a wide wooden console with an inset screen.
To the Major’s right was a wide-screen reproduction of New Augusta, as seen from the air, distant as it was from the Intelligence Service station, showing the broad boulevards and clear golden sunlight of the Imperial City on a cloudless summer day.
The Major repressed a cynical smile. The view had been carefully chosen to avoid showing the blighted areas that remained on Old Earth, whose ecology still remained fragile.
“Major Jimjoy Earle Wright, Special Operations, reporting as ordered.”
“Commander Hersnik, Major Wright. Have a seat.” The Commander, black-haired, black-eyed, olive-skinned, neat, and proper, did not leave his swivel, and presumably the energy-defense screens mounted in the console, but gestured toward a straight-backed armchair across the console from him.
“Thank you, sir.” Once again, the Major’s tone was politely expressionless as he took the proffered seat.
“You are wondering, no doubt, Major, why you were diverted from your scheduled leave to report to Intelligence Headquarters.” Commander Hersnik, elbows on the arms of his swivel, steepled his fingers together, then rested his chin on them as he waited for the Special Operative’s answer.
“Figured it had to be important, to risk my cover. Did wonder about it…sir…Especially when your…security forces…delayed an entire civilian ship and insisted on my immediate return. Seemed…unusual.”
“Unusual. Yes, that would be one way of putting it.” The Commander paused. “Tell me, Major, your own evaluation of your last mission, the Halston mission.”
Jimjoy Wright shrugged. “Instructions were clear-cut. Halstani Military was ready to annex the Gilbi systems. Need to immobilize them to give us time to deal with the situation appropriately.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “My efforts along the immobilization line never got far. Once they had those accidents outside the capital, it didn’t seem there was much else I could do.”
“Uhhh…accidents?”
“They had to be accidents, didn’t they, Commander? Who would possibly conceive of deliberately turning a fusion power system into a nuclear mishap on purpose? And coincidental detonation of tactical nuclear weapons followed the power failure, according to the fax reports. Attempting to create that kind of EMP-induced accident would have been awfully chancy, even if it had been deliberate.”
“I see…” The Commander frowned. “Assuming these accidents…they were rather unfortunate accidents from the viewpoint of the Halstani Military, wouldn’t you say?”
The Major ignored the emphasized word, shifted his weight in the straight-backed chair, and looked straight into the Commander’s eyes. His own eyes were flat and expressionless. “Most large-scale accidents with fatalities are unfortunate, sir. Some have minor consequences, except for the casualties themselves. Others have major impacts.”
“If such an accident had not occurred, then, Major, I take it that you had a plan that would have been more targeted?”
The Major smiled widely, seemingly enjoying the falsity of his expression. “Can’t say that I did, Commander. That’s the problem with trying to stop a government’s war machine. You remove the top admiral, the marshal, whoever…and someone else takes up the gauntlet. And they have a martyr to make it even easier. Even if I could have destroyed a goodly section of their fleets, why…they’d rebuild.
“So the accidents were rather fortunate, at least from Intelligence’s point of view. And from mine, I’d guess. Looked like an impossible job for any conventional approach.”
The Commander’s lips pursed, and he drew into himself, as if he were repressing a shiver.
“Are you disclaiming the credit for accomplishing your assignment, Major?”
“Not disclaiming, Commander. Wouldn’t be true, either. Just suggesting that it continue to be classified as a regrettable accident, and one for which the Emperor sends his heartfelt condolences.”
“Then you take the responsibility for fifty thousand casualties, many of them civilians?”
“You know, Commander, you have a rather unusual approach to a poor Special Operative who managed to carry off an assignment that at least four others had failed to accomplish.”
“How did you—never mind. I asked you a question, Major. Do you take the responsibility for fifty thousand casualties?” Hersnik’s chin was now off his hands, and he leaned intently toward the Major.
“My orders specifically required that I not consider casualties, Commander. Obviously, every Special Operative will be held accountable and responsible for his actions. War creates casualties. When a system supports a warlike government, the distinction between civilians and military personnel becomes semantic. Under the circumstances, we do what we can, sir.”
“Were I the strictest of military traditionalists, Major, I would find your attitude less than perfectly acceptable.”
Major Jimjoy Earle Wright said nothing, but retained the open and falsely expansive smile as he waited for the Commander to get to the main point.
Commander Hersnik coughed, steepled his fingers together again before looking at the captured panorama of New Augusta to his left. He kept his glance well above the broad shoulders of the not-quite-stocky Special Operative.
“The Fuardians have begun to annex Gilbi, Major. And there’s nothing we can do about it. Not now.”
The Major’s smile vanished. He shrugged, but did not comment.
“Would you like to say something now, Major, about the fortuitousness of your ‘accidents’? Would you?” Commander Hersnik’s voice was soft, cultured.
“Not much to say, is there, Commander? Except that Special Operatives aren’t theorists. We’re operatives, and we solve the problems we’re handed. Wasn’t told I had to worry about being successful.”
“Major Wright,” continued the Commander even more softly, “it’s worse than that. The Woman’s Party has taken control of the Halstani government. Military Central was the only group strong enough to hold them off. Now there’s no military presence to speak of, not with political expertise.”
Wright shrugged again. What could he say?
“The Woman’s Party has made known in the past their extreme displeasure with the Empire. They are far more likely to take a hard line than Military Central did.”
“Why?”
“Because the Halstani military relied on hardware and did not have complete heavy-weapons design and manufacturing capability. The Woman’s Party is more inclined, shall we say, toward more economic attacks.”
“So why didn’t someone suggest to the former Halstani military leaders that they leave Gilbi alone?”
“It was suggested, I am told. On more than one occasion. The Halstani military refused to believe that the Empire was cold-blooded enough to act. Now the Woman’s Party is claiming that we had a hand in the ‘accident’ and that any further Imperial interference in the Gilbi area will be proof enough of that.”
“But you want me to single-handedly stop the Fuard annexation anyway?”
The Commander smiled a smile even more false than the early smiles of the Special Operative. “That is not a bad idea, and one which I enthusiastically supported, Major, since you and the Fuards seem tailor-made for each other. But High Command would like the real estate in the Gilbi sector to remain undamaged.
“That leaves us with the question of your next mission, Major Wright, and one which, given the circumstances of your…diversion…should be nonactive and relatively distant from your last episode. High Command has such a mission. Strictly reconnaissance.” The Commander paused again. “Does the name Accord mean anything to you?”
“The eco-freaks out on the Arm?”
“The very same. It has come to our attention that they are beginning to develop a rather nasty biotech system that could prove, shall we say, rather difficult. You are to determine whether that is in fact the case. You are to report back with your findings without taking any action. Any action at all. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Commander.” The Major’s flat blue eyes were flatter than ever, as was his voice.
“Fine, Major. Fine. My orderly has your new orders and briefing package. You may go.”
The Special Operative slid from the chair to attention, waiting.
“You may go, Major. And let us hope that you are tougher than the eco-freaks, for our sake, if not for yours…”
Jimjoy Wright could follow the train of unspoken thoughts beyond the words, but did not comment, even in his expression, as he turned to leave the Intelligence Service officer.
“Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure, Major. My pleasure.”