Dorsai! (16 page)

“Yes,” said Donal. He pushed back his float and stood up.

“Sit down,” said ArDell. “Stop and talk. You never sit still for more than a second or two. For the love of peace, you're the only man between the stars I can talk to, and you won't sit still.”

“I'm sorry,” Donal said. “But there're things I have to do. A day'll come, maybe, when we can sit down and talk.”

“I doubt it,” muttered ArDell. ‘‘I doubt it very much.”

Donal left him there, staring at his bottle.

He went in search of the marshal; but it was Anea he encountered first, standing upon a small balcony, deserted except for herself; and gazing out over the hall, directly below, with an expression at the same time so tired and so longing that he was suddenly and deeply moved by the sight of it.

He approached her, and she turned at the sound of his footsteps. At the sight of him, her expression changed.

“You again,” she said, in no particularly welcome tone.

“Yes,” said Donal, brusquely. “I meant to search you out later, but this is too good a chance to pass up.”

“Too good.”

“I mean you're alone . . . I mean I can talk to you privately,” said Donal, impatiently.

She shook her head.

“We've got nothing to talk about,” she said.

“Don't talk nonsense,” said Donal. “Of course we have—unless you've given over your campaign against William.”

“Well!” The word leaped from her lips and her eyes flashed their green fire at him. “Who do you think you are!” she cried furiously. “Whoever gave you the right to have any say about what I do?”

“I'm part Maran through both my grandmothers,” he said. “Maybe that's why I feel a sense of responsibility to you.”

“I don't believe it!” she snapped. ‘‘About you being part Maran, that is. You couldn't be part Maran, someone like you, a—” she checked, fumbling for words.

‘‘Well?” He smiled a little grimly at her. “A what?”

“A . . .
mercenary!
” she cried triumphantly, finding at last the word that would hurt him the most, in her misinterpretation of it.

He
was
hurt, and angered; but he managed to conceal it. This girl had the ability to get through his defenses on the most childish level, where a man like William could not.

“Never mind that,” he said. “My question was about you and William. I told you not to try intriguing against him the last time I saw you. Have you followed that advice?”

“Well, I certainly don't have to answer that question,” she blazed directly at him. “And I won't.”

“Then,” he said, finding suddenly an insight into her that was possibly a natural compensation for her unusual perceptiveness where he was concerned. “You have. I'm glad to know that.” He turned to go. “I'll leave you now.”

“Wait a minute,” she cried. He turned back to her. “I didn't do it because of you!”

“Didn't you?”

Surprisingly, her eyes wavered and fell.

“All right!” she said. “It just happened your ideas coincided with mine.”

“Or, that what I said was common sense,” he retorted, “and being the person you are, you couldn't help seeing it.”

She looked fiercely up at him again.

“So he just goes on . . . and I'm chained to him for another ten years with options—”

“Leave that part to me,” said Donal.

Her mouth opened.

“You!” she said; and her astonishment was so great that the word came out in a tone of honest weakness. “I'll take care of it.”

“
You!
” she cried. And the word was entirely different this time. “You put yourself in opposition to a man like William—” she broke off suddenly, turning away. “Oh!” she said, angrily, “I don't know why I keep listening to you as if you were actually telling the truth—when I know what kind of person you are.”

“You don't know anything at all about what kind of person I am!” he snapped, nettled again. “I've done a few things since you first saw me.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, “you've had a man shot, and pretended to bomb a planet.”

“Good-by,” he said, wearily, turning away. He went out through the little balcony entrance, abruptly leaving her standing there; and unaware that he had left her, not filled with the glow of righteous indignation and triumph she had expected, but oddly disconcerted and dismayed.

He searched throughout the rest of the mansion and finally located the marshal back in his office, and alone.

“May I come in, sir?” he said from the doorway.

“Of course, of course—” Galt looked up from his desk. “Lock the door behind you. I've had nothing but people drifting in, thinking this was an extra lounge. Why'd they think I had it set up without any comfortable floats or cushions in the first place?”

Donal locked the door behind him and came across the wide floor to the desk.

“What is it, boy?” asked the marshal. He raised his heavy head and regarded Donal intently. “Something up?”

“A number of things,” agreed Donal. He took the bare float beside the desk that Galt motioned him into. “May I ask if William came here tonight with the intention of transacting any business with you?”

“You may ask,” answered Galt, putting both his massive forearms on the desk, “but I don't know why I should answer you.”

“Of course you needn't,” said Donal. “Assuming he did, however, I'd like to say that in my opinion it would be exceedingly unwise to do any business with Ceta at this time—and particularly William of Ceta.”

“And what causes this to be your opinion?” asked Galt, with a noticeable trace of irony. Donal hesitated.

“Sir,” he said, after a second. “I'd like to remind you that I was right on Harmony, and right about Newton; and that I may be right here, as well.”

It was a large pill of impertinence for the marshal to swallow; since, in effect, it pointed out that if Donal had twice been right, Galt had been twice wrong—first about his assessment of Hugh Killien as a responsible officer, and second about his assessment of the reasons behind the Newtonian move on Oriente. But if he was Dorsai enough to be touchy about his pride, he was also Dorsai enough to be honest when he had to.

“All right,” he said. “William did come around with a proposition. He wants to take over a large number of our excess land forces, not for any specific campaign, but for re-leasing to other employers. They'd remain our troops. I was against it, on the grounds that we'd be competing against ourselves when it came to offering troops to outside markets, but he proved to me the guarantee he's willing to pay would more than make up for any losses we might have. I also didn't see how he intended to make his own profit out of it, but evidently he intends training the men to finer specializations than a single planet can afford to do, and maintain a balanced force. And God knows Ceta's big enough to train all he wants, and that its slightly lower gravity doesn't hurt either—for our troops, that is.”

He got his pipe out of a compartment in the desk and began to fill it.

“What's your objection?” he asked.

“Can you be sure the troops won't be leased to someone who might use them against you?” Donal asked.

Galt's thick fingers ceased suddenly to fill his pipe. “We can insist on guarantees.”

“But how much good are guarantees in a case like that?” asked Donal. “The man who gives you the guarantee—William—isn't the man who might move the troops against you. If Freilander leased troops were suddenly found attacking Freilander soil, you might gain the guarantee, but lose the soil.”

Galt frowned.

“I still don't see,” he said, “how that could work out to William's advantage.”

“It might,” said Donal, “in a situation where what he stood to gain by Freilander fighting Freilander was worth more than the guarantee.”

“How could that be?”

Donal hesitated on the verge of those private suspicions of his own. Then he decided that they were not yet solid enough to voice to the marshal; and might, indeed, even weaken his argument.

“I don't know,” he replied. “However, I think it'd be wise not to take the chance.”

“Hah!” Galt snorted and his fingers went back to work, filling the pipe. “You don't have to turn the man down—and justify your refusal to Staff and Government.”

“I don't propose that you turn him down outright,” said Donal. “I suggest you only hesitate. Say that in your considered opinion the interstellar situation right now doesn't justify your leaving Freiland short-handed of combat troops. Your military reputation is good enough to establish such an answer beyond question.”

“Yes”—Galt put the pipe in his mouth and lit it thoughtfully—“I think I may just act on that recommendation of yours. You know, Donal, I think from now on you better remain as my aide, where I can have the benefit of your opinions handy when I need them.”

Donal winced.

“I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “But I was thinking of moving on—if you'll release me.”

Galt's eyebrows abruptly drew together in a thicket of dense hair. He took the pipe from his mouth.

“Oh,” he said, somewhat flatly. “Ambitious, eh?”

“Partly,” said Donal. “But partly—I'll find it easier to oppose William as a free agent” Galt bent a long, steady look upon him.

“By heaven,” he said, “what is this personal vendetta of yours against William?”

“I'm afraid of him,” answered Donal.

“Leave him alone and he'll certainly leave you alone. He's got bigger fish to fry—” Galt broke off, jammed his pipe into his mouth and bit hard on the stem.

“I'm afraid,” said Donal, sadly, “there are some men between the stars that are just not meant to leave each other alone.” He straightened in his chair. “You'll release my contract, then?”

“I won't hold any man against his will,” growled the marshal. “Except in an emergency. Where were you thinking of going?”

“I've had a number of offers,” said Donal. “But I was thinking of accepting one from the Joint Church Council of Harmony and Association. Their Chief Elder's offered me the position of War Chief for both the Friendlies.”

“Eldest Bright? He's driven every commander with a spark of independence away from him.”

“I know,” said Donal. “And just for that reason I expect to shine the more brightly. It should help build my reputation.”

“By—Galt swore softly. “Always thinking, aren't you?”

“I suppose you're right,” said Donal, a trifle unhappily. “It comes of being born with a certain type of mind.”

The heels of his black boots clicking against the gray floor of the wide office of the Defense Headquarters on Harmony, the aide approached Donal's desk.

“Special, urgent and private, sir.” He placed a signal tape in the blue shell of ordinary communications on the desk pad.

“Thank you,” said Donal, and waved him off. He broke the seal on the tape, placed it in his desk unit, and—waiting until the aide had left the room—pressed the button that would start it.

His father's voice came from the speaker, deep-toned.

“Donal, my son—

“We were glad to get your last tape; and to hear of your successes. No one in this family has done so well in such a short time, in the last five generations. We are all happy for you here, and pray for you and wait to hear from you again.

“But I am speaking to you now on an unhappy occasion. Your uncle, Kensie, was assassinated one night shortly over a month ago in the back streets of the city of Blauvain, on St. Marie, by a local terrorist group in opposition to the government there. Ian, who was, of course, an officer in the same unit, later somehow managed to discover the headquarters of the group in some alley or other and killed the three men he found there with his hands. However, this does not bring Kensie back. He was a favorite of us all; and we are all hard hit, here at home, by his death.

“It is Ian, however, who is presently the cause of our chief concern. He brought Kensie's body home, refusing burial on St. Marie, and has been here now several weeks. You know he was always the dark-natured of the twins, just as it seemed that Kensie had twice the brightness and joy in life that is the usual portion of the normal man. Your mother says it is now as if Ian had lost his good angel, and is abandoned to the forces of darkness which have always had such a grip on him.

“She does not say it in just that way, of course. It is the woman and the Maran in her, speaking—but I have not lived with her thirty-two years without realizing that she can see further into the soul of a man or woman than I can. You have in some measure inherited this same gift, Donal; so maybe you will understand better what she means. At any rate, it is at her urging that I am sending you this signal; although I would have been speaking to you about Kensie's death, in any case.

“As you know, it has always been my belief that members of the same immediate family should not serve too closely together in field or garrison—in order that family feelings should not be tempted to influence military responsibilities. But it is your mother's belief that Ian should not now be allowed to sit in his dark silence about the place, as he has been doing; but that he should be once more in action. And she asks me to ask you if you could find a place for him on your staff, where you can keep your eye on him. I know it will be difficult for both of you to have him filling a duty post in a position subordinate to you; but your mother feels it would be preferable to the present situation.

“Ian has expressed no wish to return to an active life; but if I speak to him as head of the family, he will go. Your brother Mor is doing well on Venus and has recently been promoted to commandant. Your mother urges you to write him, whether he has written you or not, since he may be hesitant to write you without reason, you having done so well in so short a time, although he is the older.