"And what, if I may ask, does this have to say to the matter?"
"Under Admiralty law, Mister Tokarov, the senior Federation Navy officer present becomes the Federation's senior civil officer in the absence of proper civilian authority. I refer you to Anderson-vs.-Medlock, Travis, Suchien, Chernov, et. al, otherwise known as `The Star-quest Case.' Since we have all just agreed there is no local Federal authority in Danzig, I have no option but to consider myself acting in that capacity. This" - she extracted yet another document from the deadly magazine of her briefcase - "is a proclamation drawn up by my legal officer and myself. It announces my assumption of civil authority as Governor of the Danzig System in the name of the Federal government."
"You're insane!" Hazelwood blurted, speaking for the first time. "That's patently illegal! I refuse to listen to this driv - "
"Commodore Hazelwood," Hannah said very, very softly, "you are in violation of Articles Seven, Eight, and Fourteen of the Articles of War. I am your superior officer, and you will bear that in mind and address me as such or I'll have your commission. Do you read me, Commodore Hazelwood?"
Hazelwood wilted into a confused welter of dying half-sentences, and Hannah turned back to Tokarov, dropping all pretense that anyone else in this room mattered.
`Commodore Hazelwood has just been relieved - on my authority - of his duties as Sky Watch commander." She glanced at her watch. "One hour ago, Captain Isaac Tinker turned command of Bouvet over to his exec and assumed Commodore Hazelwood's duties to free the commodore to act as my personal liaison with Danzig's industrial complex. I'm certain he'll carry out his new duties in the exemplary manner in which he carried out his previous responsibility for Fortress Command."
"You won't get away with this, Commodore," Tokarov said quietly.
"Governor, please," Hannah replied calmly. "I am, after all, speaking in my civilian persona. And I've already `gotten away' with it, sir. With the exception of one or two defeatists, the officers and enlisted men and women of the Navy have no interest in negotiating with the Thebans. Nor, I might add, do the officers and enlisted people of the Marine detachments."
Tokarov swallowed, eyes suddenly very wide, as she reached into that deadly briefcase yet again. She extracted a small handcom and activated it.
"You may come in now, Major," she said into it, and the conference room doors opened. Ten Marines in un-powered body armor stepped through them, bayoneted assault rifles ostentatiously unthreatening in their hands. They took up properly deferential positions against the wall, paying absolutely no attention to the people sitting around the table.
"Now, gentlemen," Hannah's voice drew their pop-eyed stares from the silent Marines as she closed her briefcase with a snap, "I believe that completes our business."
"This - this is mutiny! Treason!" Wyszynski blurted.
"On the contrary, Mister President. This is a constitutional transfer of authority, in exact accordance with the legal precedents and documents to which I have drawn your attention."
"That's nonsense!" Tokarov's voice was more controlled, but his eyes were just as hot. "This is a brazen use of force to circumvent the legitimate local authorities!"
"That, Mister Tokarov, is a matter of opinion, and I suggest you consult legal counsel. If I've acted beyond the scope of my authority, I feel certain the Admiralty and Assembly will censure me once contact with those bodies is regained. In the meantime, we have a war to fight, and the organs of the Federal authority in this system - the Fleet and Marine units stationed herein - are prepared to do their duty, under my orders, as per their oaths to protect and defend the Constitution of the Terran Federation. Which, I'm very much afraid, makes your objections irrelevant."
"You'll never get away with this. My people won't stand for it, and without us, there's no industrial base to support your insane policy!"
`On the contrary, sir. Your managerial personnel may, indeed, refuse to obey me. Your labor force, however, won't refuse, and you know it. In the meantime, Marine units are on their way to your offices and major industrial sites even as we speak, and any act of sabotage or active resistance will be severely dealt with. You may, of course, at your discretion, elect to employ passive resistance and noncooperation. I should point out, however, that such a decision on your part will have the most serious postwar repercussions if, as I confidently expect, my actions are retroactively approved by the Assembly."
She held his eyes unblinkingly, and something inside him shied away from her slight, armor-plated smile. She waited a moment, inviting him to continue, and his gaze dropped.
"I oelieve that's everything then, gentlemen," she said calmly, standing and tucking her cap under her arm. "Good day."
She walked out amid a dead, stunned silence.
CHAPTER NINE Ivan the Terrible
The VIP shuttle completed its approach run and settled on the landing platform with a sort of abrupt grace that would have looked inexplicably wrong to anyone who'd lived before the advent of reactiomess, inertia-canceling drives. Its hatch slid open and a solitary passenger emerged into the light of Galloway's sun.
Fleet Admiral Ivan Nikolayevich Antonov was of slightly more than average height but seemed shorter because of his breadth, thickness, and - the impression was unavoidable - density. His size, and the way he moved, suggested an unstoppable force of nature, which was precisely what his reputation said he was. But he stopped at the foot of the landing ramp and saluted, with great formality, the frail-looking old man in civilian clothes who headed the welcoming committee. One didn't ordinarily do that for a cabinet minister. but Howard Anderson was no ordinary cabinet minister.
"Well," Anderson growled, "you took your sweet time getting here, EYE-van."
"My orders specified `Extreme Urgency,' sir," the burly admiral replied in a rumbling, faintly accented basso. ` I had certain administrative duties to attend to before departure. but Captain Quirino is speculating about a new record for our route."
"So what are you doing standing around here now with your thumb up your ass?" was the peevish reply. The other dignitaries stiffened, and the painfully young ensign beside Anderson blanched. "Let's go below and make all the introductions at once. You already know Port Admiral Stevenson. he'll want to welcome you to The Yard." Ever since the First Interstellar War, the sprawling complex of Fleet shipyards and installations in the Jamieson Archipelago of Galloway's World had been called simply that.
"Certainly, sir," Antonov replied stonily.
Anderson led Antonov in mutual silence towards the luxuriously appointed office that had been set aside for his private use. The ensign who'd hovered at the old man'sshoulder throughout the formalities scurried ahead to the door, but Anderson reached out with his cane and poked him - far more gently than it looked - in the back.
"I'm not yet so goddamned feeble I can't open a door, Ensign Mauory!" His aide stopped dead, face flustered, and Anderson shook his head in exasperation. "All right, all right! I know you meant well, Andy."
"Yes, sir. I - "
"Admiral Antonov and I can settle our differences without a referee," Anderson said less brusquely. "Go annoy Yeoman Gonzales or something."
"Yes, sir." Mallory's confusion altered into a broad smile, and he hurried away. after punching the door button. Anderson growled something under his breath as the panel hissed open, waved Antonov through, and used his cane to lower himself into a deeply-padded chair.
"Puppy!" he snorted, then glanced at Antonov as he settled back. "Well, so much for your introductions - and thank God they're over!"
"Yes," Antonov agreed as he loosened his collar and shaped a course for the wet bar. "Upholding your image as an obnoxious old bastard must be almost as great a strain as serving as the public object of your disagree-ableness. Don't they keep any vodka here? Ah!" He neld up a bottle. "Stolychnaya, this far from Russia!" He looked around. "No pepper, though."
Anderson shuddered. Make mine bourbon," he called from the depths of his chair, "if there is any. Do you know," he went on, "what the problem's been with the TFN from its very inception?"
"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
"Too many goddamned Russkies in the command structure!" Anderson thumped the floor with his cane for emphasis. "I say you people are still Commies at heart!"