CHAPTER FOUR  March, 2116  Navy Castle On The Planet Kennedy

Commander Terrance MacKenzie Larson, Republic of Kennedy Navy, turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped into the courtroom to face his court-martial. I should have known it would come to this, he thought. But I did know, and it didn't make any difference.

I

It was a high-ceilinged, old-fashioned, somber sort of room, the walls and floors of polished oak, cut from Kennedy-grown trees. The judges waited behind the massive judicial bench, heavy red drapes behind them, the flags of Kennedy and the Navy set to either side. The wall paneling was intricately carved into friezes, scenes of erotism on the seas and in the sky, the proud moments in the ROK Navy's history. The courtroom was a deadly serious place.

Pete Gesseti followed Mac Larson and his chief counsel, Captain Brown, into the chamber, and looked over the friezes. They should be carving one for Mac, Pete thought, but instead they want to nail him to the wall in person.

Mac Larson didn't like to hear it, but he looked like someone who belonged in a historic scene. Tall, blond, tanned, handsome, lantern-jawed, muscular, a very imposing figure in the jet-black ROK navy uniform.

Peter Gesseti, Republic of Kennedy State Department Assistant Undersecretary for League Affairs, was short, had a few wisps of brown hair left, and was a round-faced sort of man on whom all suits looked rumpled. His profession and his own poor skills of deportment had taught him the importance of looks. Pete was certain that Mac's appearance would be a help in the case: Mac certainly didn't look like a traitor. Pete also believed in playing every card: He had urged Mac to wear all his decorations. It never hurt to remind the court of the defendant's reputation.

Stern-faced, walking with a firm, measured step, Mac approached the bench, saluted the court, removed his side-arm from its holster and laid it in front of Rear Admiral Louis Leventhal, the presiding judge.

"Commander Terrance Mackenzie Larson reporting as ordered, sir."

"Thank you, Commander. Sergeant-at-Arms, if you would be so good as to accept receipt of the defendant's weapon. Be seated, Commander." Leventhal straightened some papers on his desk and watched the sergeant bear the gun away. An ancient ritual, the surrender of the defendant's weapon. Putting that gun in the safe was a good way of asking: Was the accused worthy to bear arms in the name of the state? Was he guilty of a crime, or, of equal importance to a military tribunal, had he betrayed his trust? The gun itself was meaningless; was certainly unloaded, perhaps had never been fired. But it was a symbol of what the state put in the hands of its young men and women. Starships, for example, were powerful things, powerful weapons. Was Terrance MacKenzie Larson to be trusted with one?

Leventhal sighed. He was an old man, old enough to have been stuck on-planet for twenty years, and old enough to have served on dozens of courts-martial. He was almost entirely bald, and his face was worn and solemn. When he had had hair, it had hidden the fact that his ears stuck out. Now he was old enough, respected enough, known enough, that no one dared think his stuck-out ears looked funny. He had a wide, thin-lipped mouth that fell easily into a

frown that was not of anger or sadness, but of concentrated thought. His eyes were as clear as ever, and of a deep, penetrating gray.

Pete Gesseti considered the chief judge. He knew that drawing Leventhal was a big plus. The admiral's kid had been on the Venera, had been a classmate and friend of Mac's. Mac and the admiral even knew each other slightly. Pete had dickered and dealt hard to snag Leventhal. He hoped it was worth it.

'Mr. Gesseti," Leventhal said.

Pete rose. "Admiral."

"Are you involved with this case? I was not aware that the State Department was taking an interest."

"It is not, your honor. I have requested and been granted a leave of absence to serve as assistant counsel to the defense. I hold a law degree and a reserve Navy commission." And if State wasn't taking an interest, I wouldn't have been let within ten kilometers of this place, and you know it, Admiral.

"I see. Might I ask what school and what rank?"

"I was law school class of '98 from New Amherst College, and hold the reserve rank of captain." But don't ask to see the commission because the ink's still wet. It had taken a few more deals to get the military rank, but Pete had wanted to be damn sure Mac had a friend in court.

"You are aware that these proceedings have been classified as secret?"

"I hold a higher clearance from State, Admiral." And leaking this farce to the press would raise some merry hell indeed, Pete thought: "Navy Brass Puts Hero On Trial." Don't tempt me to use that weapon, Admiral.

"Very well, Captain Gesseti. Thank you. The clerk will read the charge."

"Republic of Kennedy Navy Judge Advocate's Office proceeding in a general court-martial against Commander Terrance MacKenzie Larson, ROK Navy, this 9th day of Fifthmonth, year 97 Kennedy Calendar, March 19, 2116, Earth Standard Calendar. The Honorable Admiral Louis

Leventhal, presiding judge; the Honorable Captains Benjamin Stevens, Eric Embry, David White, and Sandra Tho, associate judges. The defendant, Commander Terrance MacKenzie Larson, is charged under Article VII section iii paragraph 3 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice: 'public utterances detrimental to an alliance to which the Republic of Kennedy is a signatory,' and paragraph 6, 'public utterances detrimental to the prosecution of Naval operations,' both charges raised from a Class IV to a Class III violation under the provisions of Article I section ii paragraph 4, 'the Republic being in a state of War, each charge shall be considered one Class higher than described in this Code of Justice.' Charges are brought in regards to the following allegations, to wit: numerous public oral statements by the defendant in opposition to the deployment of RKS Eagle, USS Yorktown, and HMS Impervious, the three large space-going carrier craft available to the League of Planets in the prosecution of the present war against the Guardians."

"Captain Brown, how does your client plead?"

"Not Guilty, your honor."

"Then let the record show a plea of Not Guilty. Captain Tsung, if you would proceed for the prosecution."

"Your honor, as the facts themselves are not in dispute, and by prior agreement of opposing counsel, I elect to forego my opening remarks and reserve my evidence until the defense has concluded its own case."

"To the defense, then. Captain Brown."

"Thank you, your honors. I will be as brief as possible in my opening remarks. As Captain Tsung has remarked, the defense will not dispute the facts of the case, which are well known. The defendant did indeed make statements and comments and allow himself to be interviewed at the times and dates and with the persons itemized in what will be the prosecution's exhibit A. Our case will instead turn upon an entirely different point of military law and tradition.

"It has been said that the sublimest word in the English language is 'duty.' Duty is service, and military service

especially. Duty above self-preservation, duty above honor, duty above even the orders of a superior. Any sailor or soldier of this Republic would be liable to arrest, court-martial and punishment for obeying criminal orders—orders, for example, to massacre civilians. Under such circumstances it is the sworn duty of our military personnel to not only question, but refuse, their orders.

"The Navy of the Republic of Kennedy traces its traditions back hundreds of years, to the ocean-going navy of England that defeated the Spanish Armada and the American wet navy that held the sea lanes against Hitler. It looks back to Task Force One, the three U. S. Navy starships that made the first journey beyond Earth's sun a century ago. Since our race first left the solar system, we have come to be more and more spread out among the stars, and so communication has become more difficult, slower, less reliable. At the same time ships have become fester, more powerful—and thereby, potentially—more dangerous. For this reason, independent judgment, the ability to react to a changed or entirely new situation not covered by orders, has been a vitally needed skill in the Navy. Also for this reason, no Kennedy naval officer is trusted with a ship until and unless he or she is thoroughly indoctrinated into our traditions, until the events carved into these walls are etched as well into the psyche of the officer, until that naval officer has learned the many things a ship can do that it must never do. Our defense against the might of our own weapons is and always has been the quality and integrity of our people.

"Obviously, the refusal of orders is a serious thing. It cannot be done lightly, and in all but the most drastic of cases—such as the hypothetical one I have offered—the commanding officer must be allowed the benefit of the doubt. Obedience to orders is the due of a commander.

"A sailor or soldier must be prepared to obey orders that will result in his or her own death, in the destruction of his or her unit, in the loss of all that is held dear—just as an officer is expected to give orders, if need be, that will kill that officer and destroy that officer's own command. Clearly, such sacrifice must be made to a purpose. No person in our military is expected to die uselessly. He or she is expected to die and kill willingly if it is needful.

"It is an assumption inherent in all this that there is a higher good than survival. That higher good is the preservation of one's family, one's people, one's society, one's beliefs. Defense of these higher goods, perhaps at one's own expense, we call 'duty.' But when a sailor or a soldier or an officer knows, with certainty, that obedience to an order will accomplish the destruction of men and material sorely needed in the fight to come, and will accomplish no other thing, then duty lies with disobedience. Such, we will prove, is the present case. Terrance MacKenzie Larson was ordered to remain silent. With full knowledge of the consequences of his actions, he spoke. As he expected, this resulted in the present court-martial. As I have noted, duty is above honor, and Commander Larson has willingly risked the shame of imprisonment and conviction to do his duty. It is now the duty of this court to see that justice is done, and to see that Commander Larson is held blameless for his actions, released from custody fully vindicated, and returned to his unit with his reputation intact."

Pete leaned over and whispered to Mac. "Now that's some kind of speaking. You might get out of this yet."

"I didn't get in to get out, Pete," Mac whispered back. "That twenty bucks still says I lose."

Brown winked at Mac as he collected a sheaf of papers from the defendant's table. Then he turned to the bench and said, "The defense calls as its first witness Terrance MacKenzie Larson, Commander, Republic of Kennedy Navy."

The prosecutor rose and spoke. "For the record, I wish to insert a correction. The defendant's rank was conferred by brevet, and was not even conferred by a ROK Navy officer. His permanent rank is second lieutenant."

"Your honors, I object!" Brown shouted. "My client's brevet rank—conferred at the discretion of the U.S. Naval

officer under whose command he serves in the joint operation known at the Survey Service—is every bit as legal and binding as a conventional promotion, and I defy the prosecution to suggest that it was undeserved. The only effect the brevet promotion has had upon my client has been the denial of the pay and benefits of a commander. He continues at the pay schedule of a second lieutenant. I thank the prosecution for reminding us of yet another injustice done my client."

The five judges conferred briefly and then Leventhal spoke. "Objection sustained. Captain Tsung's remark will be struck from the record. Commander Larson, you may take your stand."

The clerk swore Mac in. Brown went through the usual preliminaries of identification and then began to question him.

"Commander. For the record, and for the information and with the permission of the court, could you repeat the opinions that got you into this situation?"

"Yes. As I have said publicly on many occasions, I believe that the deployment of the Eagle, Yorktown, and Impervious would be potentially disastrous to the Republic of Kennedy and to the alliance, the League of Planets."

"And why is that?"

"These carrier ships are the largest men-of-war ever built by the League. Their function is analogous to that of an ocean-going aircraft carrier: They carry fighter and attack spacecraft, and deploy these fighters in battle. The idea is simple: The carrier serves as a forward base. The fighters and attack ships can return to the carrier rather than to home base, and can thereby be shorter-range, lighter, faster, and carry less fuel and more armament then a fighter forced to travel from a distant base."

"But this sounds as if the carriers are ideal for space war."

"In theory, they are. However, like the old ocean-going carriers, including the namesakes of the Yorktown and the Impervious, these carrier ships are extremely tempting

and vulnerable targets. Because they are so large, their fusion rocket engines must be very powerful, and of course a fusion engine emits a lot of energy across the electromagnetic spectrum. The Yorktown’s engines, for example, would be detectable at least a light year away. Beyond that, of course a large target is easier to pick up on radar than a small one. For these and other reasons, it's easy to find one of these ships. The enemy, having found it, will certainly try to destroy it, both because it is a great threat to him, and because destroying it will remove such a large fraction of our war-fighting capability.

"There is an additional problem with the three ships in question. They are old—of old design and old construction. They have been more or less mothballed for decades. Upgrading a forty-year-old engine or attempting to retro-fit a modern system into these old hulls is far more difficult and expensive than starting from scratch on a new ship."

"We are all naval officers here, Commander, and all have no doubt heard these arguments before. What made you pursue your views so vigorously, so publicly, all but forcing a prosecution, risking damage to your career, or even a term in the brig?"

"My experiences in the New Finland star system soon after the League-Guardian War began."

"Could you elaborate?"

"Objection! The prosecution must object in the strongest terms." Captain Tsung had been waiting for this, and dreading it. He had to try to cut this line of questioning off. "The defense is attempting to bring in extraneous side issues. How the defendant came by his view is irrelevant. For that matter, the defendant's views are themselves irrelevant. The defense it attempting to build a case on the altar of duty. This, too, is beside the point. The only issue here is whether or not the defendant did indeed violate the Uniform Code of Military Justice by making certain statements. The defense admits he did indeed make such statements. As this is the only point on which the case turns, I respectfully request the bench to instruct defense to rest so we may proceed to the prosecution."

Pete looked on admiringly at Tsung. The old snow-'em-with-everything routine. Every possible argument for ignoring side issues. Not a bad gambit. If the judges bought just one bit of Tsung's argument, they'd have to buy the whole thing. If they did that, the defense was dead. Pete and Captain Brown had been expecting this, and Pete was ready to do his bit. It would require a little sarcasm, and better for assistant counsel to be snotty then let Brown himself get in trouble with Leventhal for being disrespectful.

Pete stood up slowly. "Your honors, I must raise a number of counter-objections. Captain Tsung knows damn well he's stuck with the unpleasant job of trying to throw an interstellar hero in the brig, and he's doing his best— doing his duty, if you will. Fine. But don't let him tell you how to do your job. If you wish to cut off the defense, you can decide that on your own without his help. Furthermore, five minutes ago my learned friend was foregoing his opening statement and reserving his case—and now he wants to shut down our key witness after five questions! Your honors, I submit that entertaining such a motion, permitting such a strategy, would deny our client's single chance to defend himself. As it is, he will be heard only in a secret proceeding. Allow him at least that."

"It seems to me, Captain Gesseti, that we now have the choice of being instructed by either the prosecution or the defense," Leventhal growled. "We shall confer." The five judges bent their heads together and whispered briefly. Finally, Leventhal addressed the court. "In this matter, we overrule the prosecution. We find that it is conceivable that reasons could exist that would compel the defendant to act as he has. Therefore, the search for such reasons in the experience of the defendant is not irrelevant. Defense may proceed with the current line of questioning."

"Thank you, your honor," Pete said as he sat down. It had definitely been worth all the trouble to get Leventhal on the court.

"Let me restate the question, Commander Larson," Brown went on. "What were the experiences in the New Finland system that led you to your views?"

"It began with the loss of the Survey Service transport Venera," Mac began. Pete and Captain Brown had rehearsed Mac very carefully, and Mac was a quick study. He gave his testimony calmly and carefully. "Many Survey personnel were lost with the Venera. The Survey's commanding officer, Captain Driscoll, decided to launch the Survey ships with undersized crews rather than have the program cancelled altogether."

And Driscoll had been looking at a court-martial herself for that decision, until things had broken the way they did, Pete thought. Then she was suddenly a far-sighted hero.

"As the court might know," Mac went on, "First Lieutenant Joslyn Marie Cooper Larson of the Britannic Navy and I were the entire ship's complement aboard the League of Planets Survey Ship Number 41, the Joslyn Marie. I was in command of the J.M. and named it for Lieutenant Larson, who is my wife.

"While on her first Survey mission, the I.M. was intercepted by a messenger drone with orders to proceed to New Finland. All anyone in the League really knew at that point was that contact with New Finland had been lost, and some group named the Guardians had attacked and conquered the planet. Up until the time of the attack, no one still alive, except a few historical specialists, had ever even heard of the Guards.

"The only other thing we knew was that the Guardians were rapidly setting up a system of interceptor missiles capable of detecting the burst of radiation peculiar to a starship reentering normal space from C² space. However, the system was designed for the sensors to look out into deep space. Once inside the New Finnish system, ships were safe from the missiles. The I.M. was the only ship in position to get to New Finland before the anti-ship missiles were all in place. If the I.M. hadn't been in the right place at the right time, there wouldn't have been a chance."

And that's what saved Driscoll, Pete thought.

In the steady voice of an officer reporting the results of a routine assignment, Mac talked on. "We launched for New Finland and arrived at that star system safely. The drone which intercepted us also carried a new device. It was the key components of a receiver unit for a matter transmitter. We were ordered to get that device to New Finland, assemble the complete receiver, and receive from deep space 5,000 League troops so as to counterattack the Guards. Obviously, using the matter transmitter got the League around the anti-ship missiles and gave us the element of surprise.

"The troops arrived safely—though I understand there was an accident on the ship that transmitted them toward us, the Mayflower, after the last of the troops got off, and it will be some time before they risk using the matter transmitter again.

"With a great deal of luck, courage, and sacrifice, the League troops and the Finns were winning. We would have driven the Guards off the planet and out of the star system. Then we discovered that a ship called Leviathan was on its way.

"Leviathan is—or rather was—basically similar to the Eagle and the other carriers, except for three major differences. One, she was much larger than our ships. Two, she was designed to enter an atmosphere; she could operate either in air or space. The third difference was that Leviathan was a lighter-than-air craft. Leviathan used a combination of aerodynamics and the lifting power of hydrogen gas to keep her in the air.

"The points central to this court-martial are these: Leviathan was by a factor of a thousand the most powerful ship in that system, but she could have been destroyed at any time by a single nuclear weapon. Our side did not do so because the controls operating the anti-ship missiles were aboard her. The missile system was designed so that

it would fire at any ship entering the system unless it was told not to. A dead-man system. Destroy the control system, and there would be no way to tell the missiles to let a ship past. If we had blown Leviathan, the missile system would have kept the New Finnish system sealed to our forces for perhaps fifty years, during which time the Guards could have returned by controlling the anti-ship missiles from outside the star system, obviously, the League didn't have the missile control codes, so we couldn't do that."

"In other words," Brown put in, "had not circumstances made the League and Finn forces hostage to the continued existence of Leviathan, she could have been destroyed easily."

"Perhaps not easily, but there is no question that we could have blown her. As it was, we were forced to board Leviathan and take over the missile-control center long enough to send a self-destruct to all the missiles. That left the way open for League ships to enter the system."

"What happened to Leviathan then?"

"After the last of the boarding party had gotten off the ship, we used the fusion engines of a lander craft to melt through the hull. They had relied on that hull, made of an extremely tough material, woven metallic super whiskers, to protect the lift cells, which were filled with hydrogen. When the flames finally burned through to the lift cells, Leviathan was destroyed by explosion and fire."

"You have touched lightly on your own part in all this. Did you not in fact take command of all the League and Finn space forces when all the more senior officers had been killed?"

;;Yes I did."

"Did you not in fact plan and lead the boarding operation, and personally use the missile-control system to send the self-destruct? Furthermore, was not your lander the last ship to leave Leviathan, remaining there at great risk and at your specific orders to pick up any survivors and ensure that the enemy ship was destroyed?"

Mac hesitated. "Yes, that is correct," he said.

Pete smiled. It was hard to be a modest hero under oath. Brown wanted to make sure the record showed what sort of man they were putting on trial.

Brown went on. "I have here a list of decorations awarded to you. Have you not in fact received the New Finnish Gold Lion, the U.S. Legion of Merit, the British Victoria Cross, the Britannica Order of Honor, The League High Cross, the Finnish Hero's Medal, the League of Planets Survey Service Stargrid, as well as the Republic of Kennedy's Purple Heart, Silver Star and Medal of Honor, as well as many other honors and citations?"

Mac shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, that is correct."

"Commander Larson, where is your wife? Have you seen her recently?"

"She was reassigned to the Navy Yards at Britannica. I haven't seen her in some months.'

"Was she not in fact transferred away from the Survey Service base shortly after you first spoke out against deploying the three carriers?'

"She was ordered back home within thirty-six hours after my first statement."

"Has it ever occurred to you that the two of you were separated as a punishment for your statement, punishment without benefit of trial or appeal? Was this not indeed persecution and harassment of a heroic man and woman because of your—"

"Objection!" the prosecutor shouted. "Counsel is clearly not questioning the witness, but making a speech. I request that this leading and biased so-called 'question' be stricken from the record."

"I withdraw my last question," Brown said smoothly. Getting the judges to hear it was enough, on the record or not. And it didn't hurt to tweak the opposition before turning Mac Larson over to him. "Your witness, Captain."

Captain Tsung was clearly rattled enough for Brown's purposes. He rose uncertainly and approached the defendant. "Ah, ah, Commander. I'm certain that no one in this court questions your courage, or your contribution to the

war effort ..." Tsung's voice trailed off for a moment. "But that is not what is on trial here, Commander Larson. You base your assumptions on the vulnerability of the three carriers on the fact that you were present when the Leviathan crashed."

"Yes, that is correct."

Pete bounced up. "I'd like to clarify the answer to that question. Commander Larson did in actual fact command the ship that wrecked Leviathan, and the larger ship was destroyed by his command and according to his plan. Excuse the interruption," he said brightly, and sat back down.

Captain Brown leaned over toward his assistant counsel. "That wasn't approved courtroom procedure," he whispered to Pete.

"No, but why let Tsung make Mac seem like he was standing around watching the world go by when a giant spaceship just happened to crash in front of him?" Pete replied. 'Mac came as close as anyone ever has to winning a war single-handed."

"Except the was isn't over yet. No one's found the Guardians' planet."

"Don't remind me."

Tsung seemed more and more unhappy about the job of prosecuting Mac. "Ah, Commander. Conceding mat you did indeed destroy Leviathan, how does that bear on the vulnerability of the League carrier ships? After all, Leviathan was destroyed in large part by fire, in an atmosphere, while flying as an aerodynamic vehicle, under circumstances wholly different from those the Eagle and the other carrier will experiences. Our ships are, after all, incapable of entering an atmosphere, and certainly do not carry large lift cells filled with hydrogen gas."

Mac smiled slightly. "Forgive me, Captain, but I don't think you've done your homework. I was debriefed very carefully after the missile "system was destroyed. In that statement, which I can see on the prosecutor's table, I reported that the Joslyn Marie at one point attacked the

Leviathan using space-to-space torpedoes." For the first time, Mac's voice and manner showed some emotion, some passion. Even talking about the carriers here, in court, got him visibly angry. "As I noted in the debriefing, the Joslyn Marie, although perhaps a thousandth the mass of the Leviathan, was able to make several direct hits on the big ship. As I have stated already, we could not risk the destruction of Leviathan, and so the torpedoes were armed with conventional explosives. The/.M.'s attack was a partially successful attempt to prevent the big ship from launching fighters against the League and Finn forces." He paused, then went on in a louder, almost threatening, tone. "As I reported to the debriefing team, if we had armed theI.M.'s torps with nuclear warheads—which we could have done easily—there is not the slightest doubt that the J.M. could have taken out Leviathan. Those hits made by conventionally armed torps prove that a ship the size of the / .M. could certainly destroy the Eagle, and the people and equipment aboard her. And I might add that the Guards know all this as well as we do. They have learned it the hard way. They foolishly put all their eggs in one basket. We must profit from the enemy's error instead of making the same fatal mistake ourselves. The secret we are trying to keep is no secret to the enemy—it is secret only to our own people and the men and women aboard those carriers."

Tsung knew when to quit. "Thank you, Commander. No further questions."

Pete popped up again. "The defense rest its case at this time, your honors. By prior agreement with opposing counsel, we will waive our concluding statement. The prosecution may now proceed with its case if it so chooses." In other words, we're quitting while we're ahead. Pete thought.

Tsung had the sense to request a recess for lunch after Mac's testimony. He needed time to collect his thoughts and get his notes in order, time to relax and plan, and he

needed to give the judges time to forget a bit of Mac's impressive bearing. So far nothing had gone his way, and he was determined that would change.

After lunch, Tsung began his case by quoting Mac's statements and showing a recording of one of his interviews. The message was the same one, but put in far less respectful tones.

Mac and Pete watched the screen impassively as Mac's image spoke. "The carriers are deathtraps. They are sitting ducks. We are told that these ships were built 'to interpose powerful forces across the spacelanes in times of crisis.' Those ships were never needed for that, in all the years they were on active duty. They were mothballed because modern weapons and tactics—and the absence of a major war—made them useless.

"Their true purpose, the true reason that these ships were built, the true reason that they are now being re-commissioned, is that admirals like to have big impressive ships to fly around in. Every cost-effectiveness calculation, every war game, every strategic plan, has shown that these ships are as much liabilities and targets as they are advantages and weapons."

Tsung stopped the recording. "That, your honors, is what Commander Larson had to say to the public last week. That statement was carried on Kennedy's largest video network. It was widely quoted. Commander Larson has said the alleged peril these carriers face is a secret— but that peril is no secret, thanks to him. Fortunately, none of his statements have gotten into the off-planet press as yet, though that is but a matter of time. No doubt ships are carrying copies of our war hero's opinions to every major world in the League.

"And what effect will that have on the war effort? Commander Larson gave up his efforts to discuss his views through normal military channels and instead went public. How will it serve morale, fighting spirit? Can it serve but to discourage the men aboard those ships? Can it but give aid and comfort to the enemy for him to hear that we

regard our own ships as admirals' toys, sitting ducks, deathtraps?

"Your honors, I will present no witnesses. I could exhaust us all with a stream of experts on strategy and tactics who would confirm what I have said, and then the defense would dredge up its own experts to refute me. I could call Captain Josiah Robinson, the commander of the Eagle, and he would be happy to tell you the high state of readiness his ship is in, and how his men are reacting to Commander Larson's statements. But you are all naval officers, and you know all these things.

"The one witness I would call, if I could, would be a naval commander—a Guardian naval commander. We must assume they have their spies here on Kennedy, watching us. The Guardians, on their hidden planet, Capital, perhaps have already viewed the recording we have just seen. If I could put a Guardian naval officer on the stand, under oath, I would ask him: Did Commander Larson's statements reveal weaknesses of which the Guardians were unaware? Did he make their forces more confident? Was what he said good for their morale?

"We have heard a great deal about duty today. We have been told that Commander Larson felt it his duty to speak, a higher duty than that he had to Navy regulations. Was it not a higher duty still to keep silent? He has hurt our perception of our strength, our morale—and aided that of the enemy? He has told us of a danger that it seems only he can see. Assuming the danger exists at all, has he not made that danger greater by pointing it out to the enemy? But speaking out on this 'danger,' has he not increased all our other dangers?

"This man has displayed courage, enormous courage, both in battle and in coming forward to say what he has said. But has he displayed good judgment? I think not. Your honors, I ask you to demonstrate your own judgment and find for the prosecution. In the old days, the wet navy days, they said that 'loose lips sink ships.' In our present day,  loose lips might serve to vaporize ships.  Do not encourage the practice of loose talk by letting this man go free. Yes, he is a hero. But heroism is no excuse for making a terrible mistake of judgment.

"Your honors, the prosecution rests."

Leventhal banged down his gavel. "Very well. This court-martial is adjourned. The court will withdraw to reach a verdict. This court-martial will reconvene at 0900 hours tomorrow morning."

Mac might have been confined to quarters in the Navy Castle, but at least he was confined to comfortable, if not downright imposing quarters on a high floor of the Tower. The rough-hewn walls of the semi-circular room were hung with paintings of great ships and admirals, the furniture was from the captain's cabin of an old U.S. wet Navy battle cruiser, the floor was covered in a rich, solemn burgundy carpet. Pete was pleased by the room. They only put high-class prisoners here.

The Navy Castle had not been built by some romantic architect to look like a fortress—it was a fortress, with stone walls three meters thick at the base, internally reinforced with steel and modern graphite composites. The walls would defend against mobs and most conventional attacks, and the bomb shelters drilled into bedrock a kilometer below could hold out long after the Castle proper had been vaporized. The Castle was designed to do more than just survive an attack, of course. It could fight back, with an armory full of rifles and side arms and supplies for a siege. There were other weapons tucked away inside the great building, which no one talked about much.

The Navy Castle had been built seventy-five years before, in quiet and peaceful days—at least they had been peaceful days on Kennedy. The ROK Navy was busy back then, as it was now, frequently being dispatched in answer to League requests: police actions, rescue missions, and even the transportation of riot police from one star system to another. The League had been formed largely in reaction to the economic and political disarray on far too many

of the settled worlds, and it fell to the navies of the strongest powers to effect and enforce the League's decisions. The ROK Navy had been there in the evacuation of New Antarctica, literally on day one of the League's existence. The Navy had flown relief supplies, bombed one side or another in the midst of revolts, arrested arms runners and drug smugglers, done too many dangerous things to trust much to days of peace. Only now, in the fight against the Guardians, did the ROK Navy find itself in its first war, but it had experience enough of fighting.

So headquarters was built inconveniently far from town— near but not at the spaceport, in sight of but not on the coast, on the brow of a hill in the middle of a large and carefully tended clearing. It wasn't due to chance that the view from the Tower was superb, nor due to the prestige of the unit that the First Marine Battalion was stationed there.

There had been scoffers who laughed at the egos that needed such a huge building, and a few Army types pointed out that the Castle cost more to build than most of the Navy's ships. Then the Fast Plague fell and madness literally became a contagious disease. When the cure was found, and the riots were over, the Castle was still there, with only a nick or two and a few scorch marks to mar the outer stone facing. The Army's gleaming, modern, downtown HQ Center had to be torn down and rebuilt altogether.

The builders of the Castle were more farsighted than they were optimistic.

The view from Mac's cabin (which Pete insisted on calling a room) was spectacular. Brown and Gesseti joined Mac for breakfast there the next morning. Mac couldn't eat much. He was too drawn by the view, the things to see. The coastline, the skyline of Hyannisport, the broad plain of the spaceport, were laid out in a magnificent panorama. It was the spaceport that Mac stared at. As he watched, a ship, a small winged job, made a horizontal launch into the perfect blue morning sky and rushed for orbit, the dull yellow of its air-breathing engines suddenly

flaring into sun-bright specks as it shifted to fusion power. Mac watched it climb to orbit, to space, to the dark between the suns, and thought of Joslyn, his wife, once again so far away.

"I should be out there, Pete," Mac said at last. "There's work to be done and I'm one of the best qualified to do it, and I'm cooped up here."

"You'll be out there soon, Mac. The judges will pass their verdict, this whole farce will be over, and you'll be back at it. Besides, you're only locked up here because you had a job of talking to do that you thought was pretty damn important. And you were right."

"Maybe," Captain Brown said, carefully refilling his coffee cup, "you even did some good, though I doubt it. And Pete, we gave it our best shot and did pretty well, but I've never had much hope of getting Mac off. The regulations are pretty clear, and I can't see Leventhal and company being thrown by a lot of verbal flourishes."

"Why do you doubt I did any good?" Mac said.

"Because you're a lousy politician and you didn't know the right people. Oh, I don't think you had much choice, and you did get your case heard, but all that accomplishes is getting the brass with their backs to the wall. They can't lose face by admitting you're right. They want to prove they're right—"

"And the only way to do that is to deploy the damned carriers. But I had to try, Captain Brown. For all the reasons you talked about in court."

"Yeah." Brown was angry, though he couldn't quite explain at what. But Terrance MacKenzie Larson was not the sort of man who should be hung out to dry. It was only the higher ranks, the admirals who loved their big ships too much, who felt the need to punish him. They left the dirty work to the Tsungs and the Leventhals, honorable officers honorably and reluctantly doing their duty. And Brown felt he never wanted to hear the word duty again.

There was a polite knock at the door and the very respectful white-gloved marine informed them that the court-martial was ready to reconvene.

They descended in the sleek, silent-running elevator, and were led the familiar way to the courtroom by the marine guard.

There was shuffling of papers, and rising for the court, and finally it came, unwilling, from Leventhal's lips.

One word.

"Guilty."