SECTION 40
A discreet knock interrupts Ulnar again. “Enter,” he barks irritably, switching off the computer monitor and rubbing his eyes.
The crewman’s uniform bears the symbol of the communications section. “Message capsule for you, sir.” Ulnar takes the finger-sized spool from the technician with a gruff word of thanks. The crewman leaves the cabin as Ulnar drops the spool into a receptacle on his desk and punches up the message.
As he suspected, the message is from Admiral Merros on Earth. Ultrawave communications link planets, but though they could pass messages at many times the speed of light, the ultrawave signal was far from instantaneous. Over interstellar distances it could take days or even weeks to transmit information or orders.
But the League’s geofractors, once so hideously misused by the evil criminal who had called himself the Basilisk, could move objects (although not ultrawaves) over vast distances in an instant. They could be used to move things almost anywhere, but the safest use of geofractors required a unit on each end of the trip. So a world like St. Germaine was connected to other geofractor-equipped planets, and it was practical to send tapes or couriers back and forth between these when ultrawave messages would be entirely too slow. It was a pity the Ka’slaq had some sort of defense against geofractors; every graduate of the Legion Academy knew how awesome a weapon a geofractor could be. The Basilisk had proven that.
Admiral Merros always reminds Ulnar of a basilisk. As his taped image forms on the screen, Merros turns his malevolent stare directly into the camera. There is something snakelike in his thin, drawn features and dry skin; his wispy hair and sunken eyes add to the serpentine image. Old before his time, he is still energetic when he wants to be and decisive when he has to be. Energy and decision always characterize the admiral’s dealings with people he doesn’t like, as Ulnar has discovered more than once.
“Vice-Admiral Ulnar,” Merros begins, licking dry lips with a quick flick of his tongue, “I have had several complaints of inactivity and indecision on your part. Obviously, you have an insufficient grasp of the gravity of the current situation.
“Having seen the same reports you received. I fail to see how you can have any cause for uncertainty,” the tape continues. “The alien armada is reported on course for Thule. Plainly that is the best place for our forces to meet them. May I strongly suggest that you deploy the bulk of your fighting forces to that star system at the earliest possible instance? As an alternative, of course, you may wish to step down from your command and allow an officer with a better grasp of strategic imperatives to take command in the Ninth Sector. I’ll leave it to you to judge the most expedient choice.” Merros pauses and offers a cold, cheerless smile. “And you can be sure, Admiral, that I will be taking a keen interest in your handling of your duties.” Message ends.
Ulnar stares at the screen even after it goes blank. Damn Merros! And damn Nils Benbo, whose hand is all too clearly in this. The last thing Ulnar needs is this kind of ill-considered order from Admiral Merros. But the man is his superior, and Merros’ orders leave him little choice.
Or do they?
If Ulnar complies with the admiral’s order, go to section 79. The trip takes twenty-two days; note this on a piece of scrap paper for future reference.
If Ulnar decides to defy orders by remaining at St. Germaine or going to any world other than Thule, return to section 8 and select a destination.
However, if the destination Ulnar ends up at is a planet still under League control and not threatened by the Ka’slaq at the time of Ulnar’s arrival, go from the section that records the squadron’s arrival directly to section 125 rather than following the regular choices for the section in question.