A long black estate car nosed its way between the trees, and Richard went to meet it. ‘Right on time,’ he said, when Benjamin Smith got out. ‘I hear you had a hard fight at Aspron.’
This was true, yet nothing had been harder for Benjamin to bear than the loss of Jaquiline Sulfer. His troops coming up behind had seen no sign of her. He wondered whether she hadn’t been wounded during the attack, and pulled against her will into the Aspron complex, hidden among those endless corridors where it would be impossible to find her. Should he receive evidence that this was true, he would return with his army, after the capture of Tungsten, and raze Aspron to the ground. He would show those Nihilists what nihilism really meant, though in the meantime there was the attack plan to talk over: ‘How many men have you got?’
‘Two thousand here, and another thousand coming up — mostly Cronacians.’
‘Can’t use those,’ said Benjamin. ‘It’s got to be done by Nihilon alone. The country cleanses itself — with no outside help. That’s what we need for the history books, anyway.’
‘They’re in Nihilonian uniforms,’ Richard said, amused at his probity. It was obvious that Benjamin had been fighting in the country, instead of in the more sophisticated moral atmosphere of the capital.
‘Makes no difference,’ he asnwered stiffly. ‘It’ll get known.’
‘Whether we use Cronacians or not, people will say we did. So we might as well,’ Richard went on, and Benjamin remembered that he was known for his diplomacy — a polite euphemism for his irritating persistence. He looked at him closely — an unstable face, the apotheosis of nihilism on a man supposed to be in the vanguard of reliability and honesty. But he too had suffered such feelings, so turned away and lit a cigar. His orderlies took a table from the back of a nearby lorry, and set it up under the trees. Richard leaned over it, and looked at the plan of Tungsten that Benjamin unrolled: ‘There are four thousand in my column,’ he said, ‘all of them good Nihilonians, meaning fierce, under-privileged, well-trained, honest, and totally confused in their political ideas. That makes seven thousand. With two thousand from Mella Took, we have nine altogether. Three tough brigades. We should be able to crush the place in a couple of hours.’
Richard liked neither his tune nor tone, and certainly not his bland, business-like assumption of total command. ‘My troops are exhausted,’ he said. ‘They need time to prepare for the attack.’
Any such softness annoyed Benjamin, who foresaw trouble if he did not show firmness now: ‘The sooner they get it over with, the better. That’s what all soldiers think, believe me, no matter how exhausted they are. In any case, it’s easier to die when you’re tired. You waste less energy that way. But here’s Mella, so let’s welcome her.’
Richard had heard about this extraordinary woman in Nihilon City, and now he saw her chariot-platform bedecked with blue and green ribbons, drawn by scores of soldiers singing verses from the folk-song written by President Took and often sung over his baby daughter’s cradle called ‘Honesty is the Best Policy’, while as many others advanced before it with long knives cutting at foliage so that it could get through.
She sat stiffly, enthroned on a sort of padded armchair, trying to look stern, though her soft dark eyes were too good-natured to instil fear, Richard thought. Yet her impressive pose certainly called for respect, which could not be said for the other person on a smaller chair beside her, a man with his arm in a sling who, as they came closer, he recognized as his third colleague.
Edgar looked uncomfortable, stiff and self-conscious due to the proximity of Mella Took, whose hand affectionately caressed his as the platform advanced, so that Richard had an uncontrollable desire to laugh. But he broke into a cough, hoping to disguise his breach of manners sufficiently to go forward and help her descent.
‘You are very kind,’ Mella said, gratefully holding his hand. ‘I hope I’m not too late to discuss our methods of attack?’ Richard felt his hand squeezed affectionately as he led her to the table, from which she picked up binoculars to view the rocket-base. For some minutes she was absolutely still, as if trying to hypnotize it into surrender.
Edgar descended from the platform, and the three men drank a victory toast. ‘I hear that Nihilitz will be banned by the new government,’ Richard said.
‘Let’s have another then, for absent friends,’ Benjamin proposed, thinking of Jaquiline. Edgar said that Adam had also vanished, though he saw less reason than Benjamin to think that these events could be in any way connected.
Mella wanted to lead the attack from the high point of her chariot, with Edgar at her side, a massed head-on assault of all three brigades against the main gate of Tungsten. Benjamin dissuaded her from this on the grounds that her life was precious and must be saved for the future of Nihilon, a country which her gracious presence would do much to rebuild. Edgar backed him up, while trying not to sound too enthusiastic. In any case, Benjamin was determined to carry through his own special arrangements no matter what Mella might suggest — in her misguided and romantic zeal. If she insisted on wielding her military influence he would have her bound and gagged and slung into a guarded thicket with her love-struck companion, even if he had to shoot down her eighty stalwarts to do it. She was not the linchpin of his campaign, and he had no time today to indulge in detestable debate. His anger decreased to a mere nihilistic interior seething, which he could only finally control by getting his own way and capturing Tungsten for the forces of law and order with the unique plan he had in mind.
He strode up and down to calm himself, reflecting with some satisfaction that he had turned into one of those influential men who not only make decisions but also carry them through. He wasn’t aware of too much pride in this, only a mathematical realism which unfailingly produced confidence when there was some danger of it being taken away.
So he expounded his plan, while Mella ate a bunch of large black grapes and looked at him admiringly with her cow-like eyes. He didn’t doubt that she took in clearly all that he was saying, for it was astonishingly simple, and in the long run such a plan would be economical of human lives, for if it succeeded only a small proportion of their army would be used. He had two hundred red Zap sports cars to play with, and would send the first hundred against the southern line of the Tungsten perimeter, with ladders strapped to their roofs which would be laid at the wall by the four men crammed into each car. The second hundred cars, also containing four men each, would assist the first wave to breach the wall, thus paving the way for a brigade of foot-soldiers who would swarm in after them. The two regiments of cars were inaugurated as the Zap Brigade — or Mella’s Own, Benjamin added as a brilliant afterthought to win her to his side, kneeling like a knight of old to kiss her hand.
She put her gracious blessing to his plan, and a sumptuous breakfast was spread under the trees. Benjamin ate quickly, giving orders between mouthfuls concerning the Charge of the Zap Brigade which was to carry everything before it, standing now and again to look through binoculars and see figures scurrying up and down the mass of scaffolding lapped around the lower part of the rocket. He had one hour from the start of his attack to reach the computer room and prevent blast-off at midday. Special squads of engineers were to lay explosives around the launching-pad and blow it — and themselves, most likely — to pieces while it was still on the ground.
He mentioned, as a sort of half joke to Mella, that one could be ingenious in military affairs when one had nothing else to think about, and she gave him such a smile that the loss of Jaquiline faded from his mind. ‘I admire you,’ she said, ‘and I shall wear that admiration in my heart for quite some time.’