Pirius kept his face blank. With Torec’s hand curled warmly in his own, he daydreamed of other things.
After a week, Nilis set up his “showdown” with Marshal Kimmer in a conference room in Officer Country. Pirius and Torec were summoned to attend.
The Marshal was thin as a blade and impossibly tall, so tall that outside Officer’s Country he had to stoop or else his bald head would have scraped the ceiling. His cheekbones were so sharp they looked as if they would cut through his flesh, and his mouth was invisibly small. But he had space- hardened eyes implanted in his face, tokens of the battlefield. They masked Kimmer’s expression completely, as was perhaps their intention.
The Marshal didn’t so much as acknowledge Pirius’s presence, as if the ensign didn’t even exist. But officially, Pirius supposed, given his future crime, he didn’t.
Nilis opened with a bumbling presentation on the latest incarnation of his Project Prime Radiant, and how it would be carried out. The operational details were starting to be refined, through work with Darc, Torec, Pirius, and others. Nilis described how a squadron of modified greenships would sail into the Cavity behind a single, carefully selected Rock, known as Orion Rock, which would be used for cover.
Commander Darc sat alongside Nilis. Pila was here, Minister Gramm’s aide, and now his representative at the Core. She sat silently, obviously not wanting to be here; she seemed to regard the Base, the Core, and the whole messy business of the war with utter disdain. And here were Pirius and Torec, sitting awkwardly at the table, hoping nobody would notice them.
Marshal Kimmer sat motionless and expressionless through the presentation. He had brought various aides who sat behind him, whispering to each other.
At last Nilis finished, to everyone’s relief, including his own. He dispersed his last Virtual image with a wave of his hand and sat down, mopping sweat from his brow with his robe’s grimy sleeve. “Marshal, the floor is yours.”
The Marshal remained silent for long heartbeats, his expression thunderous. Pirius didn’t dare so much as breathe.
When the Marshal did speak, his voice was so soft Pirius could barely hear it. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want twenty greenships.”
“A full squadron of ten, yes, plus reserve craft, and others for development and training—”
“Twenty ships. And it’s not just the ships you want. There’s the crew as well, plus backups. And the ground crew. And all the facilities that will be required to modify these ships with your gadgets, and to train up the crews in their use. You want me to draw away these resources from the front line, for this wild scheme of striking at Chandra itself. Is that what you’re asking me?”
“Marshal—”
“Next, your tactical plan. You will sail into the Cavity behind a Rock. Fine, but not just any Rock. You want Orion Rock itself! Commissary, we have been developing stratagems based on Orion for a thousand years.” His voice was rising steadily. “And you want to throw away all that work, all that preparation, on this?”
Nilis was sweating harder. “Marshal, this could win the war.”
Kimmer stood grandly, and his aides scuttled to their feet. “Every few years we have to put up with one or another of you gadgeteers or armchair strategists who imagine you know how this war should be fought, better than those who have served the Coalition over three thousand years. You may have fooled them on Earth, Commissary. But this is the Front. And you don’t fool me.” He made to stalk out of the room.
Pirius glanced at Torec. He had anticipated Kimmer’s reaction, but even so he felt numb despair. There was none of the brute wisdom he had sensed in Minister Gramm in Kimmer. Gramm was a flawed man, but he had a deep, troubled sense of a responsibility for the conduct of the war. In Kimmer there was nothing but resistance to a challenge to his own power. Pirius could hardly believe that they had come all this way, achieved so much, only to be faced by yet another block.
Unexpectedly, Commander Darc spoke up. “Wait, Marshal.”
Kimmer turned, his expression cold. “Did you speak, Commander?”
“Sir, you’re my superior officer. I apologize for speaking out of turn. But I have to point out you’re wrong. The Commissary isn’t asking you for anything. The Grand Conclave has issued an executive order, and the Commissary is merely passing on its instructions. We have to give Nilis what he needs to do the job.”
Kimmer hissed, “This fat earthworm has fooled you as he fooled the Conclave, Commander.”
“No doubt you’re right, sir. But in the meantime we have our orders.”
Kimmer glared at his aides, who confirmed in whispers that Darc was right. Kimmer’s mouth worked. Pirius knew he would make the Commander pay for what he had said.
“All right, Commissary. As the Commander says, I have my orders. Until I’ve had time to appeal against the executive mandate, you and your stooges can have what you want.” He stabbed a finger at Nilis. “But I do have discretion on how I carry out those orders. I won’t take any usable resources away from our vital struggle. You’ll have your ships. But they will not come from the line: you can have the superannuated, the battle-damaged, the patched-up wrecks. And I won’t let you waste the lives of my best crews either. Do you understand?”
Nilis nodded his head. “Quite clearly.”
“Oh, Nilis — one more thing. If you mean to use Orion Rock you’ll have to be quick about it. It will be in position in ten weeks.”
Nilis gasped. “Ten weeks? Oh, Marshal, but this is — we can’t be ready—”
Darc put his soft hand on Nilis’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Commissary. Ten weeks it is, sir.”
Kimmer seemed still more infuriated. He stalked out of the room, followed by his chattering aides.
The Commissary was trembling. “I thought I had blown the whole thing,” he said hoarsely. “My stumbling and fumbling, like a buffoon — how can I deal with a Marshal if I can’t hold myself together for five minutes?”
“You did fine, sir,” Pirius said awkwardly.
Pila elaborately stifled a yawn. “It was a lot of nonsense anyhow.”
Torec was puzzled. “Ma’am?”
“Oh, come on, Ensign, even you aren’t that naive. Kimmer knows the chain of command as well as any of us. We saw nothing here but the ingrained resistance of a man who can accept no new way of doing things, even if it might resolve the deadlock of this war. And he especially can’t take advice from an outsider like you, Nilis. Kimmer had no choice but to comply, and he knew it. This was all just posturing.”
Nilis said, “Pretty formidable posturing, though!”
Pirius was troubled. “But still, if what the Marshal said comes to pass — if we’re only going to get lousy equipment and useless crew—”
“We’ll make it work,” Nilis said. “Why, you’ve already got Rock 492 up and running, haven’t you?”
Pirius shook his head. “Fixing a broken air cycler is one thing. Putting together a squadron is another.”
Darc glanced at Nilis. “Ah, but the most important element of any squadron is its leader. Isn’t that right, Commissary?”
“Oh, without a doubt, Commander. And how lucky we are to have found the right officer for the job!” Nilis clapped his hand on Pirius’s shoulder and beamed.
Pirius turned cold inside.
Torec’s mouth dropped open. “Him? You are joking, sir.”