they're fighting a war of attrition against the Teroni Federation. They're not coming anywhere in force."
"A fleet of eight hundred ships may not seem like a force to them," noted Briggs, "but we couldn't survive against it."
"Our job isn't to survive it," said Cole. "Our job is to mobilize and misdirect it."
"I don't understand," said Rachel.
"Neither do I," said Val with a smile. "But I think I like it."
Cole turned to Val. "Who would you say are our two best pilots?"
"Me and someone else," she replied.
"I'm being serious."
"So am I."
"Damn it, Val!"
"All right. After me, the two best you have are Sokolov and Moyer."
"I agree."
There was a momentary silence.
"Have we won the war yet?" asked Val sardonically.
"Mr. Briggs, is there a way for me to send a holo, coded, scrambled, unreadable by anyone but one of the ships whose computers you and Christine rigged before we left?"
"Of course."
"I'm not done yet. Can we then transfer that signal to a captured ship?"
"Yes."
"I'm still not done. Now, the captured ship won't have a computer that you worked on, so I assume the signal should probably be put in a cube and hand-delivered to the captured ship's system?"
"That'll work," said Briggs, "but I don't see—"
"One final question," said Cole. "Can that signal then be transmitted, unscrambled and uncoded, to a destination of our choice?"
"Well, yes, if whoever transfers it to the captured ship's computer programs the ship's computer to do that."
"Is it difficult?"
Briggs shook his head. "All the difficult work has been done, encoding the initial signal so that it's undecipherable."
"Now, once those captured ships have been rigged to send the signal, we can also program them when to send it, right?"
"No problem at all."
"Thank you, Mr. Briggs." He turned to Rachel. "I want to send a coded, scrambled message to Vladimir Sokolov and Dan Moyer. I don't care if they can see me or not."
"Ready," she said, concentrating on the computer's controls.
"Gentlemen, this is Wilson Cole. I commend you on your recent kills. Now I have what will almost certainly be a more difficult task for you. I want each of you to capture or disable a small Republic ship— Class H would be perfect, certainly nothing bigger than Class J. Set the prisoners down on an uninhabited oxygen world, and I stress uninhabited. I don't want them on any world where they can make contact with anyone who might be sympathetic to the Republic. Leave them with all their food and all their medical supplies. You can also leave their weapons; just toss 'em out the hatch as you're closing it."
He paused, cleared his throat, and continued. "In a few minutes we will be transmitting a second message, a prerecorded holographic one. Mr. Briggs will tell you exactly how to handle it and what I want you to do with it. Once you have done as ordered, I want you to clear the hell out of the sector, whatever sector you're in. If there is anything you don't understand about your instructions or about the message you will soon be receiving, contact either Mr. Briggs or Lieutenant Mboya."
He looked over at Rachel and nodded his head, and she sent the messages off.
"Okay, this next will be the message I discussed with Mr. Briggs. And it has to be holographic, not just audio."
"All right," said Rachel. "Ready whenever you are."
"Now," said Cole.
"Go."
"This is Wilson Cole, speaking to you from the bridge of the Theodore Roosevelt. If you have any doubt of my identity, run a voice-print." He paused to give them the opportunity to do just that. "Four years ago you imprisoned me for an action that saved five million human lives. That is a disagreement between you and me, and I was content to live out my life on the Inner Frontier, well beyond your jurisdiction. But your pursuit of me has enlarged our disagreement to include literally billions of men, women, and aliens. You have committed genocide, you have practiced torture, and you have proven yourself totally
"A fleet of eight hundred ships may not seem like a force to them," noted Briggs, "but we couldn't survive against it."
"Our job isn't to survive it," said Cole. "Our job is to mobilize and misdirect it."
"I don't understand," said Rachel.
"Neither do I," said Val with a smile. "But I think I like it."
Cole turned to Val. "Who would you say are our two best pilots?"
"Me and someone else," she replied.
"I'm being serious."
"So am I."
"Damn it, Val!"
"All right. After me, the two best you have are Sokolov and Moyer."
"I agree."
There was a momentary silence.
"Have we won the war yet?" asked Val sardonically.
"Mr. Briggs, is there a way for me to send a holo, coded, scrambled, unreadable by anyone but one of the ships whose computers you and Christine rigged before we left?"
"Of course."
"I'm not done yet. Can we then transfer that signal to a captured ship?"
"Yes."
"I'm still not done. Now, the captured ship won't have a computer that you worked on, so I assume the signal should probably be put in a cube and hand-delivered to the captured ship's system?"
"That'll work," said Briggs, "but I don't see—"
"One final question," said Cole. "Can that signal then be transmitted, unscrambled and uncoded, to a destination of our choice?"
"Well, yes, if whoever transfers it to the captured ship's computer programs the ship's computer to do that."
"Is it difficult?"
Briggs shook his head. "All the difficult work has been done, encoding the initial signal so that it's undecipherable."
"Now, once those captured ships have been rigged to send the signal, we can also program them when to send it, right?"
"No problem at all."
"Thank you, Mr. Briggs." He turned to Rachel. "I want to send a coded, scrambled message to Vladimir Sokolov and Dan Moyer. I don't care if they can see me or not."
"Ready," she said, concentrating on the computer's controls.
"Gentlemen, this is Wilson Cole. I commend you on your recent kills. Now I have what will almost certainly be a more difficult task for you. I want each of you to capture or disable a small Republic ship— Class H would be perfect, certainly nothing bigger than Class J. Set the prisoners down on an uninhabited oxygen world, and I stress uninhabited. I don't want them on any world where they can make contact with anyone who might be sympathetic to the Republic. Leave them with all their food and all their medical supplies. You can also leave their weapons; just toss 'em out the hatch as you're closing it."
He paused, cleared his throat, and continued. "In a few minutes we will be transmitting a second message, a prerecorded holographic one. Mr. Briggs will tell you exactly how to handle it and what I want you to do with it. Once you have done as ordered, I want you to clear the hell out of the sector, whatever sector you're in. If there is anything you don't understand about your instructions or about the message you will soon be receiving, contact either Mr. Briggs or Lieutenant Mboya."
He looked over at Rachel and nodded his head, and she sent the messages off.
"Okay, this next will be the message I discussed with Mr. Briggs. And it has to be holographic, not just audio."
"All right," said Rachel. "Ready whenever you are."
"Now," said Cole.
"Go."
"This is Wilson Cole, speaking to you from the bridge of the Theodore Roosevelt. If you have any doubt of my identity, run a voice-print." He paused to give them the opportunity to do just that. "Four years ago you imprisoned me for an action that saved five million human lives. That is a disagreement between you and me, and I was content to live out my life on the Inner Frontier, well beyond your jurisdiction. But your pursuit of me has enlarged our disagreement to include literally billions of men, women, and aliens. You have committed genocide, you have practiced torture, and you have proven yourself totally
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