David Weber - Hell's Gate

"I see." Skirvon studied the commander of two thousand's expression thoughtfully. His own professional diplomat's expression was almost impossible to read, but, then, mul Gurthak didn't have to read it to know exactly what was going on behind it.

"How confident do you feel about your ability to hold against a serious attack, Two Thousand?" the civilian asked after a moment.

"That's difficult to say." mul Gurthak rocked his chair gently from side to side, his lips pursed in thought. "I suppose it depends on a lot of factors. As I pointed out to Hundred Olderhan, the other side has the advantage in terms of communications speed, given these Voices of theirs, and any strategist could tell you how huge an advantage that constitutes. But we have the advantage in terms of tactical and strategic movement speeds, and that's just as big an advantage. Remember, gentlemen, these people not only don't have magic?assuming our prisoners are, in fact, telling us the truth?but they also don't have dragons. And if they don't, then they can't begin to imagine how rapidly we can transport military forces across even totally unimproved terrain.

"As for these weapons of theirs, I'm entirely prepared to admit that they appear to be powerful and dangerous. But the real reason Thalmayr managed to get himself captured or killed, and all of Hundred Olderhan's company along with him, was the simple fact that unlike us, they can fire artillery through a portal. In a straight-up firefight in the open, between his infantry and field-dragons and their artillery, I strongly suspect that Thalmayr would have massacred them. What happened to him was, in the final analysis, the result of a totally unanticipated tactical advantage of the other side.

"We know, now, that they can do that. It won't be a surprise next time?assuming, of course, that there is a next time. They, on the other hand, have yet to see what our weapons can really do. And if they're truly as ignorant about magic and arcane technology as they seem, they're in for a whole series of equally nasty surprises of their own."

"Forgive me, Two Thousand," Dastiri said, "but it sounds to me as if you think there will be a next time."

"I'm a soldier, Master Dastiri," mul Gurthak replied, just a bit more frostily. "It's my job to think in worst-case scenarios. And it's also my job to have the forces under my command as advantageously positioned as possible to meet any contingency. Obviously, no one wants a war. But if we have one on our hands, anyway, it's my responsibility to see to it that we win the opening engagements."

"Quite so," Skirvon murmured. "And there's another point to consider, as well. If Magister Kelbryan and Magister Halathyn are correct, if this really is a genuine cluster of portals in close proximity to one another, it would scarcely be in the Union's best interests to leave a demonstrably hostile power in control of it. I expect they probably feel the same way about us, too. Which means," he glanced at his civilian subordinate, "that it's our job to convince them to see it our way, Uthik. And if Two Thousand mul Gurthak can provide us with a significant force advantage, it will strengthen our bargaining position substantially."

"Precisely," mul Gurthak agreed, nodding vigorously. "Whether we want a war or not, there are a huge number of reasons for us to position ourselves to be ready to fight if we have to, and no reason not to."

"Unless they decide we're threatening them, sir," Dastiri pointed out respectfully. "Or unless we're wrong about how quickly they can bring up forces of their own, after all."

"There's no reason why they should feel the least bit threatened, Master Dastiri." mul Gurthak made himself smile again. "The logical staging point for any deployment against this cluster would be Fort Rycharn. That's over seven hundred miles from the swamp portal, and unlike us, these people don't have any aerial reconnaissance capability. If we move in enough troops and transport dragons, we'll have the flexibility to conduct a mobile defense against any invasion attempt they might decide to mount, or to execute a lightning offensive of our own, if that should prove necessary. Our aerial units could be right on top of them before they even had a clue we were in the same universe with them."

Dastiri's eyes had widened slightly as he listened to the two thousand. Now he looked at his civilian colleague, and his eyes were dark with speculation. He sat that way for a moment or two, then turned back to mul Gurthak.

"I think I understand, Two Thousand," he said, and let his eyes drop briefly?significantly?to the PC in Skirvon's lap, still operating in recording mode. "You're right, of course, that no one wants this thing to escalate any farther than it already has. I'm sure Rithmar and I will both do our best to see to it that it doesn't. But it clearly is your responsibility to prepare for the possibility that we'll fail."

"Exactly." mul Gurthak smiled at Dastiri yet again?rather more warmly, this time?then glanced at the digital time display on the corner of his desk.

"I see it's approaching time for supper, gentlemen, and I still have a few administrative chores to deal with this evening," he observed. "I suggest we adjourn this meeting until after everyone's eaten."

"Of course." Skirvon nodded and deactivated his PC.

Dastiri stood, then paused as he realized Skirvon had made no move to climb out of his chair. He glanced back and forth between his civilian superior and the military officer still sitting behind the desk, and, for just a moment, he seemed to hover on the edge of saying something more. But then he gave his head a little shake, bestowed a half-bow upon mul Gurthak, and smiled at Skirvon.

"I have a couple of minor errands of my own I need to deal with before supper, Rithmar," he said easily. "I'll see you then, shall I?"

"Of course, Uthik," Skirvon said, and watched the other man walk out of mul Gurthak's office and close the door behind him.

"So, what do you really think of Olderhan?" mul Gurthak asked the diplomat as soon as the latch clicked.

"An ardent and reasonably intelligent young officer," Skirvon replied. "I'm not prepared to evaluate his military capability, beyond what I've already said?I'll defer to your judgment, in that area?but he's obviously observant, and he's done surprisingly well not just in extracting information from these people, but in developing insights into them, as well. Into how they organize themselves, how they think."

"But??" mul Gurthak prompted when the diplomat paused.

"As you say, 'but'." Skirvon sat back in his chair and rested his elbows on the armrests. "He'll probably make a good Andaran duke, one day, but he really doesn't understand diplomacy."

The two men smiled thinly at one another. Skirvon might be of Andaran descent, but his family had been Hilmaran for centuries, and there was still that lingering tradition of hostility between Hilmarans and the northern kingdoms which had once conquered and ruled so much of their continent. The diplomat didn't much care for any Andarans, and particularly not for the Duke of Garth Showma, the most powerful of them all. Most people didn't realize that, largely because Skirvon was of Andaran descent himself, on his mother's side. But mul Gurthak and his … associates had been aware of the man's true leanings for quite some time.

Then Skirvon's expression sobered.

"Quite aside from any other considerations," he said, "young Olderhan doesn't seem to realize that there's only a vanishingly small chance of averting war with these Sharonians. I suppose he has a powerful motivation to find one before still more people get killed, but there honestly wasn't much hope of that even before his own discovery about the things they can do with their minds. Given what we know about them now, about what they are, I'd say the chances of avoiding war are virtually nonexistent. As a Mythalan, you'll appreciate better than many how this news will play at home."