Chapter FIFTEEN
Narval slouched back into his overstuffed chair. Drummer faced him from across the enormous ebony-composite desk.
Bringing his hand close, Narval searched for a fingernail that demanded his attention.
"President Camari must accept that we have the military forces to impose our will on Slingshot," he said, momentarily shifting his eyes to Drummer. "If he does not accept my offer I want to ram it down his throat. Have you come up with an action to implement our new policy?"
"I have."
"Lay it out."
"With no advance notice, impose the inventory tax on all Slingshot supplies on board the Depot and on UIPS vessels on both sides of the Fandango force field. The first step is to conduct our own inventory of UIPS property in Plutonian space; to do that we must have on site access to the Depot's records, and spot check the records against the assets. The presence of our military forces in space close to the Depot will back up our inventory staff. Businesslike, formal, and highly visible."
"Why don't you use that tactic on the dozens of Slingshot laboratories and assembly centers here on Pluto's surface? Seems to me that would be less risky."
"For good reasons, Mr. President. We need an exercise that is sufficiently visible, even spectacular, to make both the UIPS and our INOR allies respect our will and capabilities to use organized military forces throughout our legitimate jurisdiction. A surface operation on Pluto will be barely noticed and not impress them with our military strength."
"How do you expect the Depot to react?"
"At first, with confusion. The Depot Commander will try to bluff. Meanwhile, he'll spunnel an alarm to Earth and insist on guidance. We must not accept delay."
"What if you meet resistance?"
"Overcome it. Set an example. After all, we are exercising our rights as a sovereign nation."
"And after the inventory?"
"If peacefully accomplished, we withdraw. We'll spunnel formal documentation to the UIPS on the amount of taxes due, the schedule for payment and penalties for delinquencies."
"The penalties?"
"I have several in mind. Fines for minor delays, blockade of the depot and, eventually, military action should they get nasty."
"How soon can you launch?"
"Three days."
"Do it."
Drummer turned to leave. Narval raised his jeweled hand. Drummer paused and turned back.
"What's this I've heard from Scarf about you taking a pack of escaped Inner Region convicts under your wing?"
"There's more to it than that," replied Drummer.
He filled in the gaps.
Narval scrutinized his fingernails as Drummer talked.
"I'm surprised to hear you patronize drinking establishments where such raffish elements gather," Narval murmured around the focus of his attention.
"I feel it my duty to get about, to see, and to listen. There is much to learn by observing our people going about their daily lives. The Charnel Pit is one of the few places in Coldfield where people gather to relax and talk."
Narval peered sideways at Drummer from narrowed eyes.
"Hm, you see and you listen to the people. What else, I wonder? Do the people also see and listen to you? What do you tell them, Drummer?"
"I tell them nothing, President Narval. I don't know what you mean."
"Well, let it go for now. Back to your little brood. You say they're experienced spacers, and you've checked the facts of their escape. You know we're short-handed in technicians for the military fleet. Can we use them?"
"I'm not certain that I trust them," Drummer responded.
"Test them."
"How?"
"Take them along on the inventory operation."
"…and?"
"As I say, test them. Force whoever is leading them into a difficult situation. Keep him close to you and watch how he works himself out of it. If he does well, throw him to another pack of wolves. Get him and his gang involved, deeper. Make them prove themselves. When you're satisfied, bring them up to a level where we're squeezing from them all they have that's useful to us."
"Scarf is after them."
"Leave Scarf to me, Drummer. That's all."
##
Scarf entered and waited for Narval to notice him. Narval's eyes were fixed on his hands. He spoke without looking up.
"Drummer has given me his side of the incident in the bar-room," he said, his voice cutting with sarcasm. "The hangers-on in that sinkhole have, by now, spread their version all over Coldfield, Lamplight, as well as the depot and Slingshot. You came out of it looking like a fool in a confrontation that enhances Drummer's image to the detriment of the President's Chief of Security."
Narval raised his head. His small eyes drilled into
Scarf.
"I don't trust Drummer," he said. "I suspect him of trying to subvert my rule. He's too popular in the Council and among the officers and men of the military fleet. I can't chance direct action against him at this time. For the moment, I need his expertise in military strategy and managing our resources.
"I'm looking to you to find or create enough evidence so that, when I'm ready, we can undermine Drummer's reputation. As it is, you've built him up by embarrassing your high position in my government. Do your job right, and my problem with Drummer will fade away. I'm not pleased at all with your progress so far."
Scarf's face was flushed.
"Yes, sir," he said. "My intent was to accost Drummer in a public place, draw him out, and make him look foolish. The circumstances in the Charnel Pit were fine, or so I thought. Intervention by an outsider was totally unexpected. When I get my hands on that convict, I have plans for him."
"Hold off, Scarf. You can have him when I'm done with the pack, including Drummer. Until then, put your anger aside."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, listen carefully."
Narval leaned forward, eyes on Scarf. He described Drummer's upcoming inventory operation. Stubby fingers smoothed the desk surface.
"I'll tell Drummer that I want you to go along on the inventory," he said. "Think up a reason; I don't care what it is so long as it gets you aboard. The real reason is to keep your eyes on Drummer, the operation, and these convicts he's harboring. I want to know everything that happens. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. I do." Scarf's eyes lit up. He continued eagerly. "If Drummer goes to the depot or boards UIPS ships, I should go along to see what he does. As Chief of Security, my position should compel him to accompany him. I suggest, sir, that you appoint me as your counter-intelligence representative on Drummer's task force. My job, then, would be to check if the depot or a transport, whichever we board, is conducting secret surveillance of our military facilities, field training, and ship movements. Drummer can be told that my boarding the depot would be essential to the mission you've assigned to me."
"Hasn't our man on the depot told us they've been performing those observations for the UIPS for quite a while? Wouldn't Drummer see through that ploy?"
"Not if you tell him this would be the first opportunity for your Chief of Security to enter a UIPS domain and report to you directly on his observations. It would take me out from under Drummer's command."
"Hm, yes, I see what you mean." Narval returned to examining his fingernails. He lifted a finger to his lips and nibbled.
"Very well, Scarf. I'll tell Drummer."