“It’s a possibility,” said the commander thoughtfully, “a bare possibility.” His right fist slapped into his left palm in a gesture of sudden resolution. “But by the Planets! at least it’s something! Alert all section heads for a staff meeting in half an hour. I want every scout out on a quick check of every system in our area!”
“Beg pardon, commander,” said Schninkle, “but half our light ships are red-lined for essential maintenance and the other half should be. Anyway it would take months to check every possible hideout in this area even if we used the whole fleet.”
“I know,” said Krogson, “but we’ll have to do what we can with what we have. At least I’ll be able to report to sector that we’re doing something! Tell Astrogation to set up a series of search patterns. We won’t have to check every planet. A single quick sweep through each system will do the trick. Even Carr can’t run a base without power. Where there’s power, there’s radiation, and radiation can be detected a long way off. Put all electronic techs on double shifts and have all detection gear double-checked.”
“Can’t do that either,” said Schninkle. “There aren’t more than a dozen electronic techs left. Most of them were transferred to Prime Base last week.”
Commander Krogson blew up. “How in the name of the Bloody Blue Pleiades am I supposed to keep a war base going without technicians? You tell me, Schninkle, you always seem to know all the answers.”
Schninkle coughed modestly. “Well, sir,” he said, “as long as you have a situation where technicians are sent to the uranium mines for making mistakes, it’s going to be an unpopular vocation. And, as long as the Lord Protector of the moment is afraid that Number Two, Number Three, and so on have ideas about grabbing his job—which they generally do—he’s going to keep his fleet as strong as possible and their fleets so weak they aren’t dangerous. The best way to do that is to grab techs. If most of the base’s ships are sitting around waiting repair, the commander won’t be able to do much about any ambitions he may happen to have. Add that to the obvious fact that our whole technology has been on a downward spiral for the last three hundred years and you have your answer.”
Krogson nodded gloomy agreement. “Sometimes I feel as if we were all on a dead ship falling into a dying sun,” he said. His voice suddenly altered. “But in the meantime we have our necks to save. Get going, Schninkle!”
Schninkle bobbed and darted out of the office.
III
It was exactly ten o’clock in the morning when Sergeant Dixon of the Imperial Space Marines snapped to attention before his commanding officer.