Man O' War, стр. 68

Noting the look in Hawkes's eye, the old security man said, "Hey, don't worry, we'll get these bastards."

"I have no doubt," Hawkes lied.

"I appreciate the concern," Scully said, "but I'll get through this—all of it. I've been outnumbered and outgunned before. But I'm here. They ain't. End of story."

"I wasn't so much thinking of you, Scully," answered Hawkes. "You'll do what you have to. All of us will. We don't have much choice. I was just thinking about the troopships that launched from Earth two days ago."

The security man gave Hawkes a wink. "So was I." Patting the ambassador on the back, he said, "Buck up, sonny. You do your job, I'll do mine. We'll get this mess fixed up."

He turned and left the room, off to begin the preparations for his assault.

Turning back toward the assembly, Hawkes motioned to one of Waters's aides. The woman came over to him quickly. "Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Tell Mr. Waters that I'm turning the rest of this afternoon's proceedings over to him."

"Yes, sir," responded the young woman. "Can I tell him what you'll be doing in case he needs to know?"

"My job," the ambassador answered. Then he turned and headed for the same door Scully had gone through, thinking, And, let's pray I start doing it right.

31

"MR.AMBASSADOR," CAME MARTEL'S VOICE OVER THE com, "your call is ready."

"Think this will work?" asked Hawkes.

"We won't know until we try," she told him.

"All right," said the ambassador, indexing to open his vid circuit. "In that case, here goes nothing."

Forty-five minutes after the outbreak on Mars had begun, troops had been sent to the Skyhook. Their mission was approved, and appropriations were found. A force of more than a hundred thousand, prepared for urban combat, had been gathered, armed, and sent on its way . . . all in forty-five minutes. Hawkes knew there was no way such a thing was possible. No way at all.

Which means, he thought, carefully keeping his smile etched across his face, that some son of a bitch has been planning this for weeks. Maybe months.

"Benton," came Mick Carri's thick baritone. "What's up?"

"From what I hear," said Hawkes, forcing a tremor into his voice, "a lot of very heavily armed men . . . heading for Lunar City . . . on their way here. Should I pretend to be politely amazed or just shocked?''

"Polite amazement will do," answered the senator. "No need to strain yourself."

"No need to send any troops, either," countered Hawkes. "We've got everything under control. Apparently you didn't have much faith that we could, but we have."

"No faith in you?" Carri put on a wounded face. "We've got all the faith in the world in you."

"Oh, I see," answered Hawkes. "You do have faith in us. You just happened to have a hundred thousand armed warriors standing by, all packed and ready to ship out for Mars . . . just in case we couldn't handle things."

"Okay, you want blunt, Ben, I'll be blunt. Yes. Yes, we've been getting troops ready for some time now. What did you expect? Pirate attacks, assassination attempts . . . and now, let's face it, you've got a situation on your hands."

"We do not have a situation."

"Of course you do, Ben. And it's one that's deteriorated to the point of a murderous uprising. I'm sorry if I've wounded your pride, but when things get this out of hand, steps have to be taken."

"I'm the territorial governor, Mick," sputtered Hawkes. Looking tense and worried, he glanced about the room as if searching for something, then added weakly, "I'm telling you we don't want those troops on our soil."

Carri made a noise halfway between a laugh and a bark. Then he rose out of his chair, thundering at the camera, "And I'm the head of the senate of the United States of America, Mr. Governor. And I'm telling you that the Earth League has requested we intervene in this matter, and with half the world's resources at stake, I'm inclined to follow through. Now, you make that sound any way you want. It's not going to change."

Hawkes's screen went blank, with only the words TRANSMISSION ENDED flashing in its center. With a smile, the ambassador thought, Well, that should keep him feeling smug for a while. Now, on to a way out of this mess.

Indexing the console in front of him, Hawkes called Martel back in the broadcast center, asking if their second call—the one they actually wanted—had connected. When he was told his party was waiting, he thanked the operator and then indexed open the new vid circuit.

"This better be important to take an old man away from his golf game."

"Val," said Hawkes, "had any fun lately?"

"Yeah," answered Hensen, "I was having a good time playing golf until I was told I had to get to a vid because the governor of Mars was holding for me."

"Rank has its privileges."

Hawkes's old commander settled into an easy chair. "I've been following what I can of what's going on up there. You know they sent two troopships out. Word is they've got orders to impose martial law. Hints are being dropped that you're the root problem—that if the world goes hungry it'll be your fault."

"Knew about the ships—guessed the rest—but thanks for the warning. Good to know I still have a few friends left."

Hensen rolled his eyes in an exaggerated gesture, then said, "I tried to get through to you a few days back when things tore open, but they've got all transmissions to Mars blocked."

"We know."

"So, how'd you get through?"

"One of the smart young kids here figured out that Washington would take a call from us, and that while I kept them busy, she could splice off a beam to you and then maintain it when the initial connection was broken."

"Smart young woman, eh?" Hensen smiled. "Anyone I know?"

"I don't know if you'd recognize her in a wheelchair, but