Gordon Dickson: Dorsai!

“Staff meeting,” said Donal.

His staff congregated in the executive room of the flagship. Lludrow, Fleet Commander, Ian, Field Commander — and half a dozen senior officers under each.

“Gentlemen,” said Donal, when they were seated around the table. “I’m sure all of you know the situation. Any suggestions?”

There was a pause. Donal ran his eye around the table.

“Contact Freiland, New Earth — or some place where we have support,” said Ian. “Land a small contingent and start a counteraction against the Cetan command.” He looked at his nephew. “They know your name — the professionals on all sides. We might even pick up support out of the enemy forces.”

“No good,” said Lludrow, from the other side of the table. “It’s too slow. Once we were committed to a certain planet, William could concentrate his forces there.” He turned to Donal. “Ship for ship, we overmatch him — but his ships would have ground support from whatever world we were fighting on; and our ground forces would have their hands full trying to establish themselves.”

“True enough,” Donal said. “What’s your suggestion, then?”

“Withdraw to one of the untouched worlds — the Exotics, Coby, Dunnin’s World. Or even the Dorsai, if they’ll take us. We’ll be safe there, in a position of strength, and we can take our time then about looking for a chance to strike back.”

Ian shook his head.

“Every day — every hour,” he said, “William grows stronger on those worlds he’s taken over. The longer we wait, the greater the odds against us. And finally, he’ll have the strength to come after us — and take us.”

“Well, what do you want us to do, then?” demanded Lludrow. “A fleet without a home base is no striking weapon. And how many of our men will want to stick their necks out with us? These are professional soldiers, man — not patriots fighting on their home ground!”

“You use your field troops now or never!” said Ian shaking his head. “We’ve got forty thousand battle-ready men aboard these ships. They’re my responsibility and I know them. Set them down on some backwater planet and they’ll fall apart in two months.”

“I still say—”

“All right. All right!” Donal was rapping with his knuckles on the table to call them back to order. Lludrow and Ian sat back on their floats again; and they all turned to look at Donal.

“I wanted you all to have a chance to speak up,” he said, “because I wanted you to feel that we had explored every possibility. The truth of the matter is that both you gentlemen are right in your objections — just as there is some merit in each of your plans. However, both your plans are gambles; long gambles — desperate gambles.”

He paused to look around the table.

“I would like to remind you right now that when you fight a man hand-to-hand, the last place you hit him is where he expects to be hit. The essence of successful combat is to catch your enemy unawares in an unprotected spot — one where he is not expecting to be caught.”

Donal stood up at the head of the table.

“William,” he said, “has for the last few years put his emphasis on the training of ground troops — field troops. I have been doing the same thing, but for an entirely different purpose.”

He placed his finger over a stud on the table before him and half-turned to the large wall behind him.

“No doubt all you gentlemen have heard the military truism that goes — you can’t conquer a civilized planet. This happens to be one of the ancient saws I personally have found very irritating; since it ought to be obvious to any thinking person that in theory you can conquer anything — given the necessary wherewithal. The case for conquering a civilized world becomes then a thing of perfect possibility. The only problem is to provide that which is necessary to the action.”

They were all listening to him — some a little puzzled, others doubtfully, as if they expected all of what he was saying to turn suddenly into some joke to relieve the tension. Only Ian was phlegmatic and absorbing.

“Over the past few years, this force, which we officer, has developed the wherewithal — some of it carried over from previous forces, some of recent development. Your men know the techniques, although they have never been told in what way they were going to apply them. Ian, here, has produced through rigorous training the highly specialized small unit of the field forces — the Group, which under ordinary battle conditions numbers fifty men, but which we have streamlined to a number of thirty men. These Groups have been trained to take entirely independent action and survive by themselves for considerable periods of time. This same streamlining has gone up through the ranks — extending even to your fleet exercises, which have also been ordered, with a particular sort of action in mind.”

He paused.

“What all this boils down to, gentlemen,” he said, “is that we are all about to prove that old truism wrong — and take a civilized world, lock, stock, and barrel. We will do it with the men and ships we have at hand right here, and who have been picked and trained for this specific job — as the planet we are about to take has been picked and thoroughly intelligenced.” He smiled at them. They were all sitting on the edges of their floats now.

“That world,” — he pressed the stud that had been under his finger all this time; the wall behind him vanished to reveal the three-dimensional representation of a large, green planet — “is the heart of our enemy’s power and strength. His home base — Ceta!”

It was too much — even for senior officers. A babble of voice burst out around the table all at once. Donal paid no attention. He had opened a drawer at his end of the table and produced a thick sheaf of documents, which he tossed on the table before him.

“We will take over Ceta, gentlemen,” he said. “By, in a twenty-four hour period, replacing all her local troops, all her police, all her garrisons and militia and law enforcement bodies and arms, with our own men.”

He pointed to the sheaf of documents.

“We will take them over piecemeal, independently, and simultaneously. So that when the populace wakes up the following-morning they will find themselves guarded, policed and held, not by their own authorities, but by us. The details as to targets and assignments are in this stack, gentlemen. Shall we go to work?”

They went to work. Ceta, large, low-gravity planet that it was, had huge virgin areas. Its civilized part could be broken down into thirty-eight major cities, and intervening agricultural and residential areas. There were so many military installations, so many police stations, so many armories, so many garrisons of troops — the details fell apart like the parts of a well-engineered mechanism, and were fitted together again with corresponding units of the military force under Donal’s command. It was a masterpiece of combat preplanning.

“Now,” said Donal, when they were done. “Go out and brief your troops.”

He watched them all leave the conference room — all, with the exception of Ian, whom he had detained; and Lee, for whom he had just rung. When the others were gone, he turned to the two still with him.

“Lee,” he said, “in six hours every man in the fleet will know what we intend to do. I want you to go out and find a man — not one of the officers — who doesn’t think it’ll work. Ian” — he looked over at his uncle — “when Lee finds such a man and reports to you, I want you to see that the man is sent up to see me, right away. Is that clear?”

The other two nodded; and went out, to do each his own job in his own fashion. So it was that a disgruntled Groupman from a particular landing force had a surprising meeting and surprisingly cordial chat with his commander in chief, and that they went out together, half an hour later, arm-in-arm, to the control room of the flagship, where Donal requested, and got, a voice-and-picture hookup to all ships.