The Senator, his eyes on the blue and gray columns of the display, said, "You don't believe your forces, strengthened by the Angels, can successfully engage the fleets hired by Heidigger and Carolina, Commander?"
The question mark curled in his voice like the popper of a bullwhip.
"I wouldn't believe Admiral Braun if he told me the sea was wet, Senator," Dan said. "Captain Haynes is a perfectly truthful man, making him—"
"Making him very different from you, Commander!" Senator Gordon's face was gorged with blood. Watching him, Johnnie suddenly realized that "shooting the messenger who brings bad tidings" had not always been an empty phrase.
"Making him unsuitable as a negotiator with Admiral Braun," the mercenary continued. "And making him an unsuitable choice for Admiral, in my opinion; but that's neither here nor there. The present problem is that whatever Haynes thinks, the Angels won't be supporting us when it comes to the crunch."
Uncle Dan's voice was calm only in the sense that an automatic weapon shows no emotion as it cycles through the contents of its feed tray.
"I see," said the Senator. "You believe that because Wenceslas Dome is pursuing a practical plan of confederation, the leaders of the other domes are concerned at their potential loss of power—"
"As you already knew, Arthur."
The Senator nodded. "As I already knew. And the fleets, equally concerned that a Venus united in peace will have no further need for them, are refusing to ally themselves with the Blackhorse. Making it impossible for the Blackhorse to engage the forces hired by Heidigger and Carolina."
"Not quite, Arthur," Dan said. "We'll engage Flotilla Blanche and the Warcocks, all right. And whichever additional companies join them—as I expect may happen."
Johnnie flinched to see the grin which suddenly distorted the mercenary's face.
"The thing is," Dan continued, "we'll lose. You'll lose. And Venus will lose, Arthur. Unless . . ."
"Go on," said Senator Gordon.
"Unless you let me take Johnnie here to the surface tomorrow as my aide," Dan said, and his grin became even more of a death's-head rictus.
3
When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears
Did he smile his work to see?
Did He, who made the Lamb, make thee?
—William Blake
The Senator began to laugh—honestly, full-throatedly.
When Johnnie understood what his uncle had just said, his whole being focused on what the Senator would do. He heard the peals of his father's laughter, but he still couldn't believe it. Any other reaction was more likely!
The Senator got up from his chair, wiped his eyes with the back of a pudgy hand, and walked to the windows. "Oh Daniel, Daniel," he said to the man behind him, "you had me worried there for a moment. You must really hate me, don't you?"
Even Uncle Dan seemed nonplussed. "Arthur, this isn't a joke," he said.
"No?" said the Senator, glancing over his shoulder. "Well, I suppose that's too innocent a word for it, yes."
His face changed into a mask of white fury. "Come here, Commander—and you too, John. Come and look. Come!"
Dan obeyed without expression. Johnnie followed him, silent but as nervous as if a portion of the floor had just given way. Too much was happening, too suddenly, and he didn't understand the rules. . . .
The array of warships distorted as Johnnie's body blocked portions of the projection heads, then reformed behind him.
The Senator pointed out the window. "Do you see those people, Commander?" he said. "Do you?"
There was nothing abnormal about the figures below. Parents chatted on benches in the Common as their children played; couples found nooks in the foliage, better shielded to passers-by than they were from above; on the varied strips of the powered walkways, shoppers and businessfolk sped or loitered as their whim determined.
"They depend on my decisions, Commander," the Senator explained. "Their children will depend on the decisions I make today."
"I see th—"
"They depend on me. And all you care about is destroying my family, piece by piece—first my wife, now my son. Because you never had either one!"
"Arthur, don't be a bigger fool than god made you," Dan said in a tone of quiet menace.
"I'm not such a fool that I—"
"Arthur, shut up," the mercenary ordered. His voice rose only a little, but it took on a preternatural clarity that could have been understood through muzzle blasts and the crash of rending metal.
Dan crossed his hands formally against the small of his back. He didn't step forward, but the pressure of his personality lifted the Senator's chin like a chop to the jaw. "Senator, I always argued with them when they said you didn't have any balls, but—"