"To hell with the computer. This is no damned field exercise. I'll ask for your comments, and those of my staff because I want input, not analysis. You'll be dead wrong most of the time." The expression changed slightly. "I need your inexperience, to remind me of things I might forget."
Dubcek moved back toward the place where his exec stood leaning over the main ship's console, one hand on the back of the First Technician's chair, the other pointing to the vision screen before her. Both looked up as their commander approached.
"Major," he said to the woman. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"
Wessenberg rose, gave a quick bow and left them.
"Well," he said to Masaryk, who had been his second many times in the past. "What do you think of the way he has positioned himself?"
"He's done very well. If he does as well the rest of the way, we could catch it hot."
"Yes, but he won't. Everything up to this point has been done by the book—-his computer could have done the same. Once the main engagement starts, he'll find himself hard pressed to sweep us away. We have reinforcements coming in six hours. He does not."
"Do you take that for granted?"
"What do you think?" The commander glared and Masaryk, who knew him well, adopted a more deferential tone.
"No, sir."
"I'm sorry, Rolf. As always, you see what troubles me. It makes no sense. Why do they divide their forces, and simultaneously attack the Dutch colonies at Larkspur? Half their fleet tied up hundreds of parsecs away, the rest barely more than what we have here. They may walk through the Dutch outposts—-they have the hardware—-but they will have no such easy time here."