He stood, and the two officers stood. “I’ll need your wardroom, Joseph.”
“Yes, sir,” Blackstone said.
“Should I head back to my battleship before you make your broadcast?” Mandela asked.
“No,” Hawthorne said. “I want you to wait until I’m done.”
Vice-Admiral Mandela saluted, although the worried look returned. He had been a brilliant commander once. Maybe he had seen or heard something subtle in Hawthorne that caused him to doubt the Supreme Commander.
“Commodore,” Hawthorne said. “Would you remain behind a moment?”
“Yes, sir,” Blackstone said.
Hawthorne needed to make certain Blackstone kept Mandela occupied and away from the hangers. If Mandela was worried about his position, he had a reason to be.
He would keep the Vice-Admiral here for now. He needed more time to decide if the man still had the stomach for battle.
Hawthorne greeted the Highborn admirals on a split-screen. None of them showed surprise, although Cato’s taciturn stare became increasingly difficult to bear.
“You live,” Cato said coldly.
“No thanks to the Grand Admiral,” Hawthorne said. Attempting to dodge the issue would be useless with these soldiers. He would face it head-on.
“You murdered him,” Cato said.
“Cassius attacked me as we met alone and I killed him in retaliation,” Hawthorne said. Let them chew on that.
Cato shook his head with its steel-colored hair. His eyes were like electric pits, sparking with energy. “Your story is false on the face of it.”
“I’m curious,” Hawthorne said. “Were you there?”
“Do not seek to query me, preman,” Cato said sternly. “I remember one of the stipulations of your meeting. You both went unarmed. I now see you before me. Therefore, you ambushed the Grand Admiral, murdering him for some nefarious goal.”
“You’re reasoning is sound except for one flaw,” Hawthorne said. “Your implication is that a preman cannot best a Highborn. The stalemate on Earth proves you’re wrong.”
“Stalemate?” Scipio asked. “We hold more of the Inner Planets than you do.”
“As in most things,” Hawthorne said, “the initiative belongs to the one who first attacks. That initiative brings results for a while, as it has done for the Highborn. Now, however—after we’ve taken your measure—the war has stalemated.”
Cato turned his head, likely regarding his fellow admirals. “The preman deliberately attempts to antagonize us. I take this to mean the murder has puffed-up his sense of importance.”
“You owe me a debt,” Hawthorne told the admiral. “In truth, you owe me several debts. The first is that I aided the Highborn. I slew the Grand Admiral and therefore proved his weakness, in that sense strengthening your race. Secondly, you have achieved higher rank through Cassius’s death. Therefore, you hold your new position because of my action. I would expect more gratitude from you instead of this flood of surly words.”
Silently, Cato stared at Hawthorne. Finally, he said, “You obviously feel secure in your battleship.”
“I am secure,” Hawthorne told him.
“For now,” Cato said, as a grim smile stretched his lips. “I will remember your words on the day I tear out your heart.”
“Excellent!” Hawthorne said, as he scanned the three admirals. It caused a stir among them.
“Why are you speaking to us like this?” Scipio asked.
“Because I want to know if you understand the strategic need of my fleet,” Hawthorne said.
“The need is obvious,” Scipio said. “We approach the cyborg concentration of strength and their military power is unknown. Therefore, each additional ship we possess—no matter how weak—could prove critical to us.”
“True,” Hawthorne said. “But I needed to know if Highborn rage would rob you of that knowledge. To set you at ease, I’ll tell you why Cassius lost. I came to the meeting with a surgically-attached prosthetic finger loaded with projectiles.”
“Why would you do that except to assassinate the Grand Admiral?” Scipio asked.
“I did it because I feared him. I would be speaking alone with the Highborn I had thwarted for years. He acted predictably at the meeting and therefore I shot him in self-defense.”
“You play a dangerous game with us,” Sulla said.
“No more than you have played with me,” Hawthorne said. He’d been wondering when Sulla would speak up. Did the admiral fear he would give away his part in Cassius’s death? No, Highborn seldom feared, but Sulla might be uneasy.
“Do not think you can bait me as you have Admiral Cato,” Sulla said, his voice coiled with tension.
How far can I push them? Hawthorne glanced at each of the Highborn in turn. Only Admiral Scipio appeared calm.
“The purpose of this verbal exchange is to show you that I refuse to fear your power,” Hawthorne said.
“You speak mindlessly like an animal,” Sulla said.
A faint smile spread across Hawthorne’s lips.
“He mocks us!” Cato said.
“It is part of his purpose,” Scipio said. “He is driving home the point that we need his ships. He believes that our need gives him immunity, at least temporarily.”
“The cyborgs have dug-in at the Saturn and Uranus Systems,” Hawthorne said. “They will soon have gone to ground in the Jupiter System. You would be wise to desire SU warships in those coming battles just as you desire them in this one.”
“As I said,” Scipio replied, “you have temporary immunity from our wrath. Yet I am surprised you are willing to take it so far. I wonder at your underlying motive.”
“Must we accept his impudence?” Cato asked the others.
“Yes,” Scipio said, as he watched Hawthorne.
“For now,” added Sulla.
“Good,” Hawthorne said. “We’ve cleared the air and can now speak freely. Therefore, it’s time to discuss strategy and tactics. First, who will have overall coordinating authority during the assault?”
“We have a triad of authority,” Sulla said.
“I believe he means: who will give him orders,” Scipio said.
“No,” Hawthorne said. “If each of you is acting independently, then I shall as well.”
“He basks in his impudence!” Cato cried, striking the armrest of his command chair. “It is insulting. We must teach this preman a lesson.”
“Call it what you will,” Hawthorne said. “The point is I control five ships and each of you only controls one.”
“Each of us controls a Doom Star,” Sulla said. “One Doom Star vastly exceeds the power of your five vessels.”
How true is that? Could five of us at close range destroy a Doom Star? When the time comes, we will have to attack them separately. Hawthorne folded his hands on the desk, and asked, “What is our present strategy?”
The Highborn traded glances. Finally, Admiral Sulla spoke up.
“We shall implement a massive deceleration in four days,” Sulla said. “We will crawl into the system, using the superiority of our lasers to outrange the enemy and obliterate local concentrations of strength. That will surely cause the cyborgs to launch their fleet at us. Again, we will outrange and annihilate them. Since the essence of our strategy and fleet is the Doom Stars, your warships will lead the attack. Their primary duty will be to absorb the enemy’s attacks with your particle-shielding. Your secondary duty will be to destroy whatever incoming missiles or ships you can.”
“An interesting plan with many facets to recommend it,” Hawthorne said. “I agree with the heavy application of your ultra-lasers. The only flaw I detect is your use of the SU ships. Especially with collapsium shielding, the Doom Stars possess the superior defenses. Therefore, they should lead the assault, absorbing the initial punishment with minimal damage.”
“This is outrageous!” Cato shouted. “We are the Highborn. He will accept our decisions or face punishments!”