Warstrider: All Six Novels and An Original Novella by Ian Douglas

Author:Ian Douglas [Douglas, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: War Planet Press
Published: 2017-12-21T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The genius of the ideal subordinate officer in war lies in his ability to receive orders from his superiors and execute them according to his own interpretation of the actual situation and his understanding of his superior's intent and purpose—in short, to read his mind.

The genius of the ideal superior officer lies in his ability to choose those subordinates who read his mind most clearly.

—Kokorodo: Discipline of Warriors

Ieyasu Sutsumi

C.E. 2529

Hours later, Dev was jacked into Eagle's psych monitor program when Commander Lisa Canady's voice reached him through the ship's ICS. "Sir? General Sinclair is coming aboard."

"Eh? Why wasn't I told he was coming? I should have met him at the lock!"

"Sorry, sir, but no one knew. His ascraft was listed as a scheduled cargo run from Rogue to Eagle, all very mysterious and secret. I had no idea."

"Never mind, Lisa. I'm coming." He began downloading the commands to terminate his link with the ship's AI. "Have him escorted to the main lounge."

In preparation for their departure, Eagle's spin-grav habs had been deployed and set rotating. Most of the living areas—crew quarters, recreation decks, crew's and officers' mess—were located in these pods that had unfolded from Eagle's central core and were now turning with speed enough to create a half G of out-is-down simulated gravity on their outer decks. The main lounge was actually part of Eagle's recreation suite, a place for crew and officers to mingle, with plenty of AI interface screens for access to the ship's library and comm modules lining the bulkheads for those who needed a complete linkage.

Dev was delayed by a junior ship's staff officer who needed a list of consumables checked and palmed for. Dev used the implant in his left hand to download the data, checked it against a master list stored in his RAM, then fed his electronic approval to the lieutenant's compad. By the time he reached the ship's lounge, Sinclair had already arrived. There was an unusual touch in evidence, however—four Confederation soldiers in full armor and carrying PCR-28 high-velocity rifles at port arms standing guard in the passageway outside. The entryway dissolved and the guards ushered him through.

It was not roomy inside; large as a destroyer was, there were few places aboard the ship accessible by humans that were, especially now that she was fully loaded with provisions for the long voyage to Alya. Still, the compartment had comfortable couches and a large viewall set to show a nonrotating scene gazing aft from Eagle at the now-full gold, white, and violet disk of Herakles. The deck was carpeted, and soundproofing panels on bulkheads and overhead muffled the steady throb and murmur of noise from the rest of the ship.

Sinclair was waiting for them, along with Brenda Ortiz. Katya was also present, the accidental attack in the ascraft apparently forgotten, though the memory made Dev inwardly cringe. To his considerable surprise, another man was waiting there as well, the slim, dapper, and silver-haired Grant Morton, the current President of Congress.

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