Mission of Honor-ARC (81 page)

"We'll be docking with the station in about thirty-five minutes, Sir,"
Genesis
' captain told him.

"Thank you," Detweiler replied, suppressing the urge to smile. Hayden Milne had been his yacht's skipper for over three T-years, during which time he'd been firmly trained to never—ever—refer to him by name. He'd been simply "Sir" to every member of the crew for as long as anyone could remember, and Detweiler's temptation to smile faded as he thought about that. He was doomed to stay in the shadows for at least a while longer, after all.

At the same time, there was no point hiding from the men and women of the MAN. Every one of them knew Benjamin was their commander and that Albrecht stood behind Benjamin, although the fact that the two of the were
Detweillers
had been carefully concealed even from most of them. They knew Benjamin and Albrecht as their leaders, however. Which, after all, was the reason both he and those orbiting
Sharks
were in the same star system this afternoon.

"I suppose I should wander back to my quarters and tell my wife," he continued out loud.

"Of course, Sir."

Detweiler nodded to the captain, then turned and headed for the lift, followed even here by Heinrich Stabolis, his enhanced bodyguard.

They stepped into the lift car, and Stabolis pressed the proper destination code, then stood back with his hands folded behind him. Detwiler couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd seen Stabolis standing in exactly that posture over the years, and it was amazing how seeing that familiar sight always helped bolster his confidence.

"So far, so good, Heinrich," he said.

"As you say, Sir," Stabolis agreed, and Detweiler grinned.

"You know, Heinrich, you don't say a lot, do you?"

"I suppose not, Sir." There might have been the faintest glimmer of an answering smile on the bodyguard's face.

"But you're always there," Detweiler continued more seriously. "If I haven't mentioned it lately, I appreciate it."

Stabolis ducked his head in mute acknowledgment, and Detweiler reached out to rest one hand lightly on his shoulder for a moment. Then they reached their destination, the doors opened, and Stabolis stepped out into the passage, glancing both ways before he moved to allow his charge to leave the lift. They walked down the wide, tastefully decorated passageway to Detweiler's private suite, and he pressed the admittance buttoned himself.

"Yes?" a pleasant soprano voice said after a moment.

"It's me, Evie," he said. "Time to go in about thirty minutes."

"Then should I assume Heinrich's managed to get you down here without any gravy on your shirt?"

The door opened, and Evelina Detweiler looked out at her husband. Behind her, Albrecht saw Ericka Stabolis, Evelina's bodyguard, trying hard not to smile at
her
principal's comment. Ericka had been with Evelina almost as long as Heinrich had been looking after Albrecht, and she had the same black hair, blue eyes, and regular features—a bit more delicate in her case—as her brother. Indeed, people were often struck by the extraordinarily close physical resemblance between the Stabolis siblings. They shouldn't have been; Ericka and Heinrich were clone twins. She was every bit as deadly as her brother, and the only significant difference between them was that she had two X chromosomes.

"No," Albrecht said now, mildly, as his wife inspected him. "I not only managed not to spill the gravy, but I've actually had
two
cups of coffee without dribbling
any
of it down my chin."

"I
am
impressed," Evelina told him with a chuckle, then stood back to let him through the doorway. He smiled and touched her lightly on the cheek. The Long-Range Planning Board had known what it was doing when it paired the two of them, he thought. Sometimes the LRPB's choices resulted in pairings that couldn't stand each other. Officially, that didn't happen, of course, but
unofficially
everyone knew it did. Fortunately, mistakes like that could usually be fixed, and in the case of an alpha line pairing like any of the Detweilers, the Board's members put special effort into trying to pick compatibles.

"Just let me change my jacket," he told her.

"Fine. But not the
red
one," she said firmly.

"I
like
the red one," he protested.

"I know you do, dear." She shuddered. "On the other hand, I'm still hoping they can do something about your taste in clothing in our grandchildren."

* * *

"Attention on deck!"

The command rapped out as Albrecht Detweiler, his wife, and his son Benjamin stepped out onto the stage at one end of the spacious compartment.

In one sense, there was no real pressing need for them to be here. Albrecht could have addressed the senior officers of the returning Oyster Bay fleet electronically, and he doubted they would have minded or felt slighted. But they deserved better, and whether they ever actually realized it or not, he knew they would never forget that he'd come all the way out to Darius to greet them on their return. It wasn't exactly a trivial trip from Mesa, even with the streak drive, but that wasn't what they were going to remember.

He walked across to the podium, flanked by Evelina and Benjamin, and stopped, looking out across the assembled faces of the men and women in the maroon and green uniforms of the MAN. He stood there for the better part of a full minute, taking the time to look at
each
of those faces, then, finally, he nodded.

"Please, be seated."

Feet scuffed on the space station deck as the naval officers obeyed his invitation, and he let them settle themselves once again.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said after several seconds, his voice quiet, "I came out to Darius to greet you and to tell you how extraordinarily well each and every one of you have performed. I can tell you now that Oyster Bay was a complete success."

No one actually seemed to move, yet a stir went through his audience. Shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly, eyes brightened, and he nodded again.

"All three major Manticoran space stations were totally destroyed," he told them. "They've been less forthcoming about the damage to their dispersed yards, but there was no way they could conceal what had happened to
Hephaestus
and
Vulcan
, given how many witnesses there were.
Weyland
's destruction has also been confirmed by official Manticoran sources. As I say, there's been no official word on damage to their dispersed yards, but all unofficial sources indicate near total destruction there, as well.

"The attack on Yeltsin's Star was equally successful. Their Blackbird Yard was totally destroyed, along with virtually its entire workforce. We have confirmation that
every
ship under construction at Yeltsin's Star was also destroyed or too heavily damaged to be repairable. Given that the Manties' missile production was concentrated in their space stations and that Grayson's missile production was concentrated at Blackbird, we've succeeded in destroying their ability to replace ammunition expenditures for the foreseeable future."

He could actually feel the satisfaction of the assembled officers, and they deserved it. Still—

"The only aspect of the entire operation which can be considered less than a hundred percent success was no one's fault," he said gravely, and the bodies shifted slightly. "We'd hoped to destroy the Manties' entire next generation of capital ships still in the yards. Unfortunately, it appears we'd underestimated their construction speeds. You did, indeed, destroy
an
entire generation of capital ships, but the one
before
it had already been launched, and the majority of their new construction was safely at Trevor's Star, working up, at the time of your attack."

The faces looking back at him were extraordinarily sober now, and he shrugged very slightly.

"As I say, you carried out your orders perfectly, ladies and gentlemen. The fault—if there was a fault—lies in our own original estimates of the Manties' building times. And, to be completely honest, we recognized at the time we sent you out that it was possible we were going to catch less of their new construction in the yards than we might have wished. So, while that portion of the operation was less successful than we'd hoped, the overwhelming effectiveness of the
rest
of Oyster Bay more than compensates. Given that virtually all of the Manticorans' combat advantages depend upon their advances in missile warfare, the fact that you've destroyed their missile production lines has dealt a much more significant blow to their war fighting capability than we would have achieved even if we'd caught the rest of their ships under construction. Once they've expended their existing
missiles
, it won't matter how many missile-armed
ships
they have."

Here and there a head nodded, although some of the expressions he could see remained less cheerful than they had been.

"In the meantime, however," he said more briskly, "the entire Alignment is in your debt. We're
proud
of you, and we owe you a debt no one could ever truly hope to repay. The first operation of the Mesan Alignment Navy has been, by any conceivable measure, the most successful attack by
any
navy in the history of space warfare. What you accomplished with a mere handful of ships is unparalleled, and you've dealt a deadly blow to both the capabilities and the confidence of our most dangerous enemies. I wish, more than I could ever tell you, that we could bring all of you back to Mesa for the public parades and celebrations you so richly deserve. For now, though, it's essential we continue to conceal our military capabilities. Especially the capabilities conferred upon us by the spider drive. At this time, no one else in the entire galaxy knows—whatever they may
suspect
in Manticore—who was behind Oyster Bay, or where a similar attack might be launched. It's imperative we maintain that ignorance, that uncertainty, for as long as possible. So much as I would prefer to tell everyone how proud I am of you, I can't. Not yet. I can only tell
you
, and even there, I lack the words to express the depth of that pride.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the fleet, for centuries our ancestors have worked and planned for this moment." He swept them with his eyes once more, seeing the shoulders come back once again, seeing the eyes brighten anew. "Those ancestors cannot be here today, and so I find myself forced to stand in their place. But if they
could
be here, if it were possible for them to speak to you, I know that they, as I, would say 'thank you.' Thank you for your courage, your dedication, your professionalism, and for the brilliant way in which you've finally begun the crusade for which all of us have hoped, planned, and waited for so very long."

* * *

"Did I lay it on too thick, Ben?" Albrecht asked an hour or so later as he, Evelina, and their son sat down to a private supper. There was more than a hint of humor in his tone, but Benjamin wasn't fooled.

"Actually, Father," he said very seriously, "I think they understood you meant every word of it.
I
certainly did, at any rate."

Albrecht looked sharply at him across the table, and Benjamin returned his regard levelly. After a moment, Albrecht picked up his wineglass and sipped.

"Now you've gone and embarrassed your father," Evelina scolded with a small smile. "Don't you know the Chief Executive of the Mesan Alignment isn't supposed to come all over sentimental just because the Navy's officers have performed so superbly?"

"Oh, hush, Evie." Albrecht lowered his glass and shook his head at her. "I know perfectly well I can't fool you or Ben."

"No, and there's no reason you should try to fool the Navy over this one, either," she told him. "I agree with every word you said to them, Albrecht. And I hope they know exactly how deeply you meant it."

"So do I," Benjamin said.

"Well, I
do
wish we'd caught more of their construction in the yards," Albrecht said. "I know all the analysts agree that taking out their ability to resupply with missiles was even more important, but I'd really hoped we could get a bigger jump on them when the
Detweilers
begin commissioning."

Benjamin frowned, but he also nodded.

The Mesan Alignment had established the first colony on Gamma almost two hundred T-centuries ago, and it had grown steadily since, although the really exponential growth had begun only over the last seventy T-years or so. Exactly when to begin that particular side of the Alignment's preparations had always been a bit ticklish, since no matter how well it was hidden, there was always the possibility of someone's stubling across it, which could have raised all sorts of questions. On the other hand, the capabilities Darius represented had always been central to the Alignment's strategy, and Albrecht's grandfather had authorized the first colonization flight as one of his last acts as the Alignment's chief executive.

By now, the Darius System's total population was in the very near vicinity of 3.9 billion, of whom just under two billion were representatives of one of the alpha, beta, or gamma genomes the Alignment had worked to improve for so long. The remainder of the system population were genetic slaves, but the conditions of their slavery were very unlike those which obtained elsewhere. For one thing, they were treated far better, without the often savage discipline slaves often received elsewhere. In fact, the Darius System was one of the very few places where the Mesan Constitution's official legal protections theoretically intended to protect slaves from gross mistreatment were actually enforced. For another, they had a much higher standard of living. And for yet another, they formed the backbone of a highly trained, highly skilled labor force which had earned the respect of its supervisors.

Every one of those slaves had been born here in Darius, and not one of them had ever left the system. Their knowledge of what was happening elsewhere in the galaxy, of the history of Mesa, or of
their
own history had been carefully controlled for generations. They'd been aware for those same generations that they and their parents and grandparents had been laboring to build first the basic industry and then the specialized infrastructure to support a massive navy, but they were convinced it was intended as a
defensive
fleet.