* * *
Dvenitch's Staff assignment came to an end more quickly than he would have expected. A predicament that had long been simmering on Bloo Cluster's shared face with Soogoonda Cluster - a loose association of stellar systems just out from center-side - suddenly boiled over. Dvenitch first heard about it less than ten minutes after hostilities started. General Kabrell came into his laboratory looking grim.
Dvenitch stood up. "Sir."
"The Goonies have jumped."
Dvenitch's heart sank. "Esterfall System, sir?"
"Of course. They've occupied Yesper, Tinnik, and Marmel Tree. They surprised and blew away what little we had there. Member Boormin is screaming about lack of readiness, although it was he that insisted on 'cutting away the fat' in our Section Five Surface Defense,' by which he meant gutting it." The General smiled grimly. "Humint tells us the usual Goony round of executions is under discussion, but it's Bloos they want to murder this time, and they don't quite dare. Yet. Planning calls for a Corps-sized intervention, and fast. I'm tapped for a Division. I need company-grade officers with experience. Want a job?"
"A platoon, sir?"
"What else?"
"The sooner the better, sir."
"Will Shara and the children be okay?"
Dvenitch hid his surprise at hearing his wife's name from the General's lips. "Of course, sir. She's a Forces brat like myself. So are the kids."
"Pack your grip, then. I've jumped Philmaur to Full Colonel and the G-2 slot, but I'm not jumping a pup like you. We leave for Arshodd, Open Fringe Prefecture, in one hour."
"Yes, sir." And the General was gone.
Dvenitch did not see him again until halfway through the Yesper operation. Even with an inept enemy, Dvenitch and his platoon met thirst, boredom, heat, fright, fatigue, hunger, muck, and loss of sleep (military varieties) simultaneously, for weeks on end.
But there was one thing at which the enemy was not inept: intervention from space. Three times, Dvenitch found himself well and truly blown, once with a full company unexpectedly on his flank that even had a tiny mortar unit in support. The drill had so far paid off: with the enemy in space just a few hours before and still disoriented, an instant wild assault (rehearsed dozens of times in training) was enough to bewilder them, defeat them, and net some prisoners. Still, the ease with which the Goonies could drop units in undetected was getting scary. During the third regroup, when there were to be two days of blessed rest at the current Objective, Dvenitch underwent a spiritual crisis.
When it was over, he carefully wrote a Priority Counsel Request, direct to General Kabrell, to be sent up through his chain of command. His Company Commander, Captain D. O. Tensher, looked at the folded slip with curiosity.
"A suggestion?"
"Yes, sir. Read it if you want. It's on the Goony interventions. General Kabrell and I were on General Staff together a few months back. The idea comes from some work we did there."
"Think it'll help?"
"I think it's worth a try, sir."
The Captain nodded. "I'm getting tired of Goonies in fresh uniforms blinking at me out of terrain I've just cleared. I'll send it at once."
Late that afternoon, Dvenitch was preparing to take a cold shower under an old bucket with holes in the bottom, his first chance to scrub with soap in twenty-six days. With demonic timing, a summons arrived by hovercraft.
"What?" snapped Dvenitch, smelly, exasperated, and about to unlace his second boot.
Lieutenant Gilley, the starched, scrubbed Staff Officer with the summons, repeated himself. "Division Headquarters, Lieutenant. Senior officers are sitting around a table waiting for you. Get your boots back on and your butt in motion."
Dvenitch, tormented by the smell of the soap lying on his towel, was tempted to feed it to the messenger. "Does my Company Commander know?"
"Your whole chain of command knows, clear up to General Kabrell. In fact, he's the one who sent for you, God knows why."
It dawned on Dvenitch that this summons was in response to his Priority Counsel Request of that very day. Someone was eager for input.
"Sergeant Banner!" he bawled, pulling his boot back on and beginning to lace it.
Banner appeared after a moment, grizzled and quizzical. "Sir?"
"I'm for Division HQ. The platoon is yours until I'm back. Command meeting 1800 hours. Tell the Captain I'm reporting on a Priority Counsel Request that he knows about."
"Right, sir," said Banner.
The hovercraft ride was long. Dusk finished as they gained altitude, and the night terrain slid beneath. They landed among darkish smudges that Dvenitch could barely identify as tents, and Lieutenant Gilley led him through the noisy night to a tent-side.
"In there," he said. "The Brigade Commanders, General Kabrell, and the G-2. Stay back, and maybe they won't notice you."
"Thanks."
Dvenitch entered the suffocating pitch black of the vestibule, then pushed through into a dimly lighted space smelling of old ink and fresh paint. A group of officers seated around a field table turned at his entry.
"Lieutenant!" said General Kabrell. "Glad to see you. I believe you know these gentlemen."
"Yes, sir," said Dvenitch. They exchanged handshakes.
"So," said Kabrell. "You sent me a Priority Counsel Request."
"Right, sir."
"You have an idea. Expound it."
Dvenitch marshaled his thoughts. "Aren't the Goonies intervening from space a little too much, sir?"
"They are," said Kabrell.
Colonel Philmaur spoke. The tiles on his collar already looked worn. "Yes, and it's driving us nuts. They may actually have some technology we don't have, which is not a pleasant thought."
Colonel Shaeffly, Commander of C-Brigade, Dvenitch's unit, spoke. "Lieutenant Dvenitch has had some personal experience with their surprise interventions."
"He's not the only one," said Kabrell. He turned to Dvenitch. "So what's your idea?"
"My idea, sir, is to have the Goonies do an intervention under controlled conditions - controlled by us."
"Yes?"
Dvenitch took the plunge. "The Goonies are like the Bernheimers, sir: their military doctrine essentially derives from Falmuth Cluster - they tend to use Policies rather than innovation. I suggest we place disrupter cones in our Division Area. Put 'em in fairly prominent locations and let the Goonies spot them. I think they'll react like the Bernheimers in that Contingency Plan we discussed, and intervene from space with a Clandestine Communications Post. We could ambush the most likely spots, capture the craft they use, and examine them to learn how they're intervening without being spotted."
Colonel Philmaur said, "This derives from the little puzzle we worked on at Vanolla, does it not?"
"It doesn't derive from it, sir. It's the same thing."
"Ingenious, Lieutenant." He turned to Kabrell. "I recommend we implement it at once, sir, seeker/disrupters and all."
Kabrell was nodding. "It's worth a try."
"Seeker/disrupters?" said Colonel Shaeffly. "There are no civilians around here. What are you three talking about?"
He found out. In the next forty minutes the group initiated a requisition for five close-in guidance radar assemblies (actual seeker/disrupters would have raised too many eyebrows), decided where to place them to get them spotted quickly, and deduced the most likely locations for a Clandestine Communications Post. Dvenitch had already given thought to the last question, and had located two logical places, a good one and a poor one.
Kabrell approved the good site. "I'm assuming, Lieutenant, that you'd like to watch at this mouse-hole."
"Yes, sir."
"We'll let others watch at the others. If I can get your Brigade Commander's consent . . ."
"You have it, sir," said Colonel Shaeffly. "I'll issue orders tonight for your platoon's temporary detachment for special duty. Suiting you?"
"Yes, sir."
General Kabrell glanced around the table. "Further points?" Th
ere were none. "Lieutenant Gilley!"
Gilley's head popped into the tent. "Sir!"
"Get Lieutenant Dvenitch back to his outfit."
Ambush
Dvenitch eased his head and one shoulder out of his field enclosure and looked cautiously round the little draw his platoon was investing. Even after six days on site, no one was getting careless. He spoke into his communicator.
"Guelph, Ghibbeline; over."
"This is Guelph; over."
"Ghibbeline. First night-check; over."
"Guelph. Roger; out."
As Dvenitch reached for his IR shield, the faintest of whispers filled the air. He froze, and before him, in the valley below, were three flat airsleds hovering on silent propulsors. Though their top surfaces displayed the speckled sphere of Soogoonda Cluster, Dvenitch recognized them as Falmuth A26 Air-vehicles. He oozed back into concealment, put up his IR shield, and turned on his E-screen to observe the scene from above: a satellite view that rolled by underneath to be replaced endlessly by another. He saw the middle sled disgorge four men in dark fatigues, the other two sleds flitting up ridgelines to keep a watch on the approaches.
The air-sleds were not of interest, beyond taking them out. They had certainly not come in from space. It was whatever they were escorting that would be from space. Dvenitch squeezed his push-to-talk three times. Three pulses came back, and far away, aircraft began to come up to power. His screen showed the four scouts combing this ridgeline on foot. One came very close, but the expensive concealment held (as it bloody well ought to). The men climbed up to the saddle near the center of First Squad's position.
Sweat dripped from Dvenitch's nose. At last, a larger smudge eased onto the