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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31680-h.zip b/31680-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c1cf98 --- /dev/null +++ b/31680-h.zip diff --git a/31680-h/31680-h.htm b/31680-h/31680-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e34d130 --- /dev/null +++ b/31680-h/31680-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1336 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Generals Help Themselves, by M. C. Pease + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: center; font-weight: normal;} + h2 {margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figl {float: left; clear: left; margin: 0 1em 1em 0; padding: 0; text-align: left; width: 355px;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 136px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .bk1 {margin: 0 0 3em 0; text-align: justify;} + .pa1 {margin-top: 2em; text-align: center;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Generals Help Themselves, by M. C. Pease + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Generals Help Themselves + +Author: M. C. Pease + +Release Date: March 17, 2010 [EBook #31680] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENERALS HELP THEMSELVES *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figl"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="355" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +<i>The fleet came in at four o'clock.</i></div> + +<div class="bk1"><i><big>With no one to help him, it seemed the +General was lost. But the enemy was soon +to discover that—</big></i></div> + +<h1>GENERALS HELP<br /> +THEMSELVES</h1> + +<h2>By M. C. Pease</h2> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">"Did it</span> go well?" the aide +asked.</p> + +<p>The admiral, affectionately +known as the Old Man, did not reply +until he'd closed the door, +crossed the room, and dropped into +the chair at his desk. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Go well? It did not go at all. +Every blasted one of them, from the +President on down, can think of +nothing but the way the Combine +over-ran Venus. When I mention +P-boats, they shout that the Venusians +depended on P-boats, too, and +got smashed by the Combine's +dreadnoughts in one battle. 'You +can't argue with it, man,' they tell +me. And they won't listen."</p> + +<p>"But the Venusians fought their +P-ships idiotically," the aide complained. +"It was just plain silly to +let small, light, fast ships slug it out +with dreadnoughts. If they had +used Plan K—"</p> + +<p>The Old Man snorted.</p> + +<p>"Are you trying to convince me? +I've staked my whole reputation on +Plan K. They wouldn't give me the +money to build a balanced space-fleet, +even when the fleets of the +Combine of Jupiterian Satellite +States were staring them in the +face. So, I took what I could get +and poured it into P-boats. I threw +all our engineering and scientific +staff into making them faster and +more maneuverable than anyone +ever thought a space-ship could be. +I got them to build me electronic +computers that could direct that +speed. And, two years ago, every +cent I could lay my hands on went +to install the computers on all our +ships."</p> + +<p>"I remember," the aide said.</p> + +<p>"But, now the chips are down, +the people have funked out on me. +I am one of the most hated men in +the Federation. They say I destroyed +their Navy. And, we are not +going to get a chance to try Plan K. +They decided, today, to accept the +Combine's offer to send envoys in +a month to discuss possible revision +of the Treaty of Porran. When I +left, they were wondering if there +was any chance of getting out for +less than Base Q."</p> + +<p>"But, good lord, sir, Base Q supplies +nine tenths of all our power. +The Combine will have a strangle +hold on us, if they get that."</p> + +<p>"Quite. But the people will give +it to them, rather than fight. And +the President will sign."</p> + +<p>"Surely, sir, the people are not +all cowards?"</p> + +<p>"No. If they had time to think, +they would fight. That's why the +Combine is striking now. The people +are panicky. Hysterical. The +collapse of Venus was so sudden, +and the disaster to their P-boats so +complete. They've just lost hope. +Most people would rather live under +a dictator than die to no purpose. +They've just lost hope."</p> + +<p>The pounding of the Old Man's +fist measured his words and the +depth of his anger.</p> + +<p>"If we could only make them +hope. Somehow. Anyhow."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, his clenched fist +stopped in mid-air. He frowned. +Slowly, his hand opened. The frown +relaxed and a smile replaced it.</p> + +<p>"Maybe we can, at that. Maybe +we can." He leaned back with his +eyes half closed. His aide knew better +than to interrupt him. Ten minutes +later, he opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Make arrangements to have +Commander Morgan take command +of Base Q as soon as possible. +Within two days at the outside." +His manner was curt and clipped. +"And bring him here to me before +he leaves."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. But may I say, sir, I do +not understand?"</p> + +<p>"You're not supposed to."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The aide was a competent man. +Orders were written that afternoon, +in complete disregard of normal +red-tape. Base Q was advised of +the imminent shift. Commander +Stanley Morgan boarded a jet +plane on the Australian desert that +night. The next morning, he was +shown into the Old Man's office.</p> + +<p>"Commander," the Old Man +said after the preliminaries were +taken care of, "as you are well +aware, you have been in considerable +disgrace, recently, for getting +too close to the Venusian-Combine +war, in defiance of orders. It has +been felt, in certain quarters, that +you might have caused a serious international +crisis."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The junior</span> officer started to +speak, but the admiral waved +him to silence.</p> + +<p>"You could, if you like, point out +that the crisis has come, anyhow. +As a matter of fact, I never felt that +that phase of your action was too +important. I did, however, deplore +your disregard of orders—and still +do." He paused a moment, while +his steel gray eyes studied the +younger man. "You are about to +receive new orders. It is absolutely +imperative that these orders be +obeyed explicitly." His pointing +finger punctuated his words with +slow emphasis.</p> + +<p>"These orders place you in command +of Base Q. The Treaty of +Porran, among other things, designates +the asteroid Quanlik, or Base +Q, as being the territory solely of +the Federation and suitable for the +establishment of a delta-level energy +converter. Because this converter +is the prime source of gamma-level, +degenerate matter which +is used as the fuel for nearly all our +power generators, Base Q is recognized +as a prime defense area of the +Federation. A sphere, one hundred +thousand miles radius about Quanlik, +was designated by the treaty as +a primary zone. Any ship or ships +entering this zone may be ordered +to leave within one hour. Upon +failure to comply, our military +forces may take such action as they +deem necessary. A sphere, twenty +thousand miles radius, is designated +as the secondary zone. Assuming +the prior warning has been given +upon their entrance into the primary +zone, full action may be taken +against any ship entering this without +delay or further warning.</p> + +<p>"Standing orders with regard to +Base Q are that any ship entering +the primary zone shall be warned +immediately. Upon failure to comply, +after the one hour period, full +action shall be taken with the forces +stationed on Quanlik. Any ship entering +the secondary zone shall be +brought to action as soon as possible +without warning.</p> + +<p>"Your orders direct you to assume +command of Base Q and to +comply with existing standing orders +regarding the maintenance of +its security until and unless advised +of a change in the standing orders +or the Treaty of Porran." The Old +Man paused for effect. "Any questions?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," the younger man said. +"I am wondering if I should inquire +what events you are anticipating. +Would it be wise for me to +ask?"</p> + +<p>"No!" The monosyllable cracked +out like a shot.</p> + +<p>"No further questions, sir."</p> + +<p>"I have one. While you were in +Australia, I presume you kept well +informed on recent developments +of Plan K?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. The school I commanded +taught advanced theory of +Plan K."</p> + +<p>"Very good. You will proceed +immediately to Base Q. As a final +word I will repeat the absolute +necessity of obeying your orders <i>to +the letter</i>! Good luck."</p> + +<p>The young man saluted, collected +his orders and walked out. Two +hours later, he was in space.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Commander Morgan's</span> office +was perched in a plastic bubble +high on a crag overlooking Base +Q. Directly below it lay a few of the +multitude of locks that provided +haven for the protecting fleet of P-ships. +A vast array of domes and +other geometrical shapes bore witness +to the hive of machine-shops, +storerooms, offices, et al, that kept +the fleet operating. And on the far +horizon towered the mighty structure +of the delta-level converter, the +reason for the existence of Base Q. +A quarter of a million tons of high-test +steel and special alloys, machined +to tolerances of less than a +thousandth of an inch, with another +hundred thousand tons of +control equipment, it was yet delicate +enough so that it could not +have functioned in the gravity field +of any planet. This asteroid, small +as it was, was barely below the permissible +limit.</p> + +<p>The Commander sat at his desk, +watching the latest flashes in the +news-caster. They were not good. +At this very moment, the President +of the Federation was in conference +with the representatives of the +Combine, discussing the wording of +the protocol that would probably +be signed in a few hours. And no +word—no hint—that anyone in the +Federation outside the services was +willing to dare anything at all. A +red light flashed on his desk. A +buzzer sounded a strident call. He +flipped a switch. "Commander +talking."</p> + +<p>"Far-Search talking. Report contact +with large group of ships, probably +dreadnought warships. Range, +two one oh. Bearing, four oh dash +one nine. Speed, seven five. Course, +approaching. That is all."</p> + +<p>"Keep me advised any change or +further details. Advise when contact +range is one five oh."</p> + +<p>"Wilco."</p> + +<p>The Commander pressed a button +on his desk. In response, his +staff quickly assembled to brief him +on the immediate status of Base Q +as a war-making machine. As a +matter of routine, it was always +kept fully ready. His staff merely +confirmed this for him.</p> + +<p>Seventy-five thousand miles out +in space, the Radars of the Far-Search +net swept their paths. Men +labored over their plotting tables, +noting the information the radar +echoes brought back; slowly piecing +together the picture. Tight communication +beams relayed the data +back to the base as fast as it was obtained.</p> + +<p>About an hour later, the red light +flashed again. The assembled staff +fell quiet as the Commander flipped +the switch, again. "Commander +talking."</p> + +<p>"Far-Search talking. Contact +previously reported now range one +five oh. Bearing, four one dash one +seven. Course, approaching. Speed, +six nine. Estimated twenty-three +ships, dreadnought type, plus small +ship screen. Battle formation. That +is all."</p> + +<p>"Advise at range one one oh."</p> + +<p>"Wilco."</p> + +<p>The Commander turned to his +staff. "Sound a general alert." His +words were clipped and clear. He +flipped a second switch on his desk. +"Radio, this is the Commander. Get +me a direct beam to the Chief of +Staff. Highest urgency. Scramble +with sequence Charlie."</p> + +<p>His office had emptied by now, +with officers running to their posts +as the siren of the general alert +wailed through the corridors. As its +urgent call died off, a green light +showed on his desk, indicating contact +with earth. "Morgan, Commander, +Base Q, requesting direct +line to Chief of Staff. Highest +urgency."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, Morgan." The Old +Man's voice sounded peculiar after +passing through the scrambling and +unscrambling machines that twisted +the sounds into queer pieces and +distributed them among several +frequencies and methods of modulation. +But, even so, it had a note of +strain in it that was not artificial.</p> + +<p>"Sir, when you gave me my orders, +here, you directed me to obey +them <i>to the letter</i>, without question +or cavil. Is that right, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is." There was a threat +in the Old Man's voice.</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, would you tell me if +there has been any change in those +orders since my arrival? Aside from +administrative details, of course?"</p> + +<p>"No. Absolutely not."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir. Sorry to have +bothered you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Quite right. Good +luck. Signing out."</p> + +<p>Morgan thought the Old Man +sounded relieved at the end. And he +could not be quite sure, but he +thought he heard the Admiral mutter +"And good hunting," as the +connection broke.</p> + +<p>He summoned his aide to take +over the office while he went down +to the center of the asteroid where +I.C., the information center, was +located, where he would assume direct +command of the base.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">As he entered</span> I.C., the +Ships Supply Officer reported +all ships fully loaded and fueled +with gamma-matter, ready for +flight. The Missile Officer reported +all ships equipped with war-head +missiles. The Lock Officer reported +all locks manned and ready. Base +Q was ready.</p> + +<p>As he climbed to his chair over +the plotting tank, he noted with +satisfaction the controlled tautness +of the men's faces. They too, were +ready.</p> + +<p>As the glowing points of yellow +light that represented the enemy +fleet crossed the dimly lit sphere in +the tank that indicated the one +hundred thousand mile radius +marking the edge of the primary +zone, he took a microphone from a +man waiting, nearby.</p> + +<p>"Base Q to unknown fleet. I +have you bearing four one dash one +seven. Range one oh oh. Identify +yourself. Identify yourself. Over." +His words were spaced out with +painful clarity. A hush had fallen +over I.C.</p> + +<p>The loud-speaker on the wall +came to life with a squawk, after a +few seconds.</p> + +<p>"Fleet Four to Base Q. This is +Fleet Four, operating under orders +from the Jupiterian Combine. +Over."</p> + +<p>"Base Q to Fleet Four. According +to the Treaty of Porran, space +within a radius of one hundred +thousand miles of Base Q has been +designated a primary defense zone +of the Federation. I therefore order +you to leave this zone within one +hour. Failure to comply will make +you liable to full action on our part. +I have the time, now, as one three +four seven. You have until one four +four seven to comply. I further +warn you that an approach within +twenty thousand miles will make +you liable to immediate action, regardless +of time. Over."</p> + +<p>The men in the room stared, +open-mouthed. All had dreamed of +hearing these words spoken in these +tones to the Combine. A cheer +might have been given, had it not +been for discipline.</p> + +<p>In a few seconds, the loud-speaker +squawked again. "Fleet Four to +Base Q. Our orders are to assume +a position at twenty-five thousand +miles radius pending renegotiation +of the Treaty of Porran. I suggest +you contact your headquarters before +doing anything rash. Over."</p> + +<p>The Commander sat with a smile +on his lips. Quietly he handed the +microphone back to the radioman. +In a minute, the loud-speaker +squawked, again. "Fleet Four to +Base Q. Did you receive my last +transmission? Acknowledge, please. +Over."</p> + +<p>The radioman looked at the +Commander, questioningly, but he +only shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Can't you turn that damn +squawk-box off? It's distracting."</p> + +<p>As the minutes crept by, the +bright dots in the tank moved +closer. The Commander took the +Public Address microphone.</p> + +<p>"Attention, all personnel, this is +the Commander talking. The +Fourth Fleet of the Combine entered +the Zone twenty minutes ago. +They were given an ultimatum but +are showing no indication of compliance. +Therefore, we are going to +blast hell out of them." The echoes +from his voice rolled back from +speakers all over the base. "The +people at home do not think we can +do it. I know we can. I have not +asked their permission. It is not +needed. My orders are explicit and +fully cover the situation. My orders +to you are equally explicit. Go out +there and teach the bloody bastards +a lesson." He turned back to the +men in I.C. "Scramble flights one, +two, three, and four. Others to follow +at intervals of five minutes until +all are in space. Flight plan King +Baker. Initial Time, one four five +oh. Execute."</p> + +<p>The talkers took up the chant.</p> + +<p>"Flight one. Flight one. Scramble. +Scramble. Execute."</p> + +<p>"Flight two ..."</p> + +<p>Etc.</p> + +<p>In the tank, green points of light +moved out. The first four came into +position and stopped in the four +quadrants of the circle of which the +center was the point at which the +enemy would be at Initial Time. +The following flights moved out to +other points on the circle.</p> + +<p>Time seemed to stop. In I.C., +the Flight Directors gave the orders +that moved their flights into position +and briefed them on future +tactics in quiet voices. The electronic +computers and other devices +moved silently. The clock made no +noise as its hands moved towards +the final moment.</p> + +<p>The Commander moved some +dials under his hands. He pushed a +button and a red light showed on +the lead dreadnought of the enemy +column.</p> + +<p>"This is the initial target." The +designation was relayed to the +flights.</p> + +<p>The second hand of the clock +was making its final sweep. All +voices quieted. The Commander +raised his fist. As the clock's hand +came to the top, his fist slashed +down.</p> + +<p>"Execute!" The battle was on.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Flight Commander Dennis</span>, +Flight One, heard the final word +as he sat in the small bubble on top +of the dense package of machinery +that was a P-ship. Swiftly, his hands +closed switches. The course had already +been chosen and fed into the +automatic computers under him. +He merely gave the signal to execute. +In response, the ship seemed +to pick itself up and hurl itself +down the radius of the circle to the +waiting enemy fleet.</p> + +<p>He could not see them, but he +knew that, behind him, lay the +other nine ships of the flight, in +column, spaced so close that an +error in calculation of but a few +millionths of a second would have +caused disaster. But the automatic +and inconceivably fast and accurate +calculators in the ships, tied together +by tight communication +beams, held them there in safety.</p> + +<p>As he came within range of possible +enemy action, Dennis pressed +another button, and the Random +Computer took command. +Operated by the noise a vacuum +tube generates because electrons are +discrete particles, it gave random +orders, weighted only by a preference +to bring the ship's course +back to the remembered target.</p> + +<p>The column behind obeyed these +same orders. The whole flight +seemed to jitter across space, moving +at random but coming back +to a reasonably good course towards +the target, utterly confusing any +enemy fire-control computers.</p> + +<p>To the men in the ships, one to +each, it seemed as if their very +nerve cells must jar apart. They felt +themselves incapable of coherent +action, or, even, thought. But they +did not need coherency. Their +function was done until the ship +was out of danger, when a new formation +would be made, a new target +designated, and a new order to +execute given.</p> + +<p>Because the electronic computers +took care of the attack. They had +to. No human could react as fast as +was needed. Out from the enemy +ships reached fingers of pure delta-field, +reaching for gamma-matter. +The touch of a finger meant death +in a fiery inferno as the gamma-matter +that fueled the ship and +formed the war-heads of their +lethal eggs would release its total +energy. There was only one defense. +The delta-field could be propagated +only in a narrow beam, and +at a rate much slower than the +speed of light. By keeping the enemy +computers confused, they kept +those beams wandering aimlessly +through space, always where the +little ships might have been, but +were not. Unless their luck ran out.</p> + +<p>Flight One kept moving in, with +constantly increasing speed, except +for random variations. Once +through the outer screen of small +ships, a relay closed and the link +was broken between the ships of the +column. Each then moved in independent +manner. The designated +target was an area to the computers, +rather than a ship. Radar +beams reached out to find specific +targets. As they found them and +moved close, the random computer +switched off for a small moment of +time, while the missiles were dispatched +on a true bearing. And +then the ships moved on, leaving +their eggs behind them.</p> + +<p>The eggs moved in with fantastic +acceleration to their targets. +Half their energy went into that +acceleration, to get them there before +the delta beams could find +them. The other half was given up +in incandescent heat when they +found their targets. Becoming pinpoints +of pure star matter, they +seared their way into the enemy +vitals. But, even with their fantastically +concentrated energy, it was +not enough. For the dreadnoughts +were armored with densely degenerate +matter, impervious to any +but a direct hit, and compartmented +to require many hits.</p> + +<p>The flights moved in and passed +on through. And other flights came +in. And others followed them. The +first flights halted, found each +other, turned, and drove in again. +Pass and repass. A myriad of blue-white +flashes gave measure of the +struggle.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">On Base</span> Q, in the I.C. room, +the Commander watched the +tank. Curt orders designated new +target areas as the enemy fleet +broke up under the whiplash. Slowly, +one by one, the points of light +that marked the enemy vanished, +leaving only the void.</p> + +<p>Finally, as must any fleet that +faces annihilation, they turned and +fled. The battle was over. All that +remained was to give the orders to +bring the flights home. And that +was soon done.</p> + +<p>The Commander got up. He +stretched. He was tired. He glanced +at the clock. Two hours and forty +minutes. Very quick, indeed, as +space battles usually went. But, +then, he thought grimly, this had +been the first battle ever fought under +the whiplash of Plan K.</p> + +<p>But, now, there was a report to +be made. And he did not know how +to do it. As he walked back wearily +to his office, he tried out phrases in +his mind. None seemed to fit.</p> + +<p>His aide was bending over the +facsimile machine as he came in. +"Priority orders from the General +Staff, just coming in, sir."</p> + +<p>The Commander looked at the +machine. "General Staff to Commander, +Base Q, Urgent, Immediate +Action," he read. "You are +hereby advised that a protocol has +been signed at Washington, D.C., +with representatives of the Combine, +revising the Treaty of Porran +to the extent that Base Q shall be +jointly administered by yourself +and the Commander, Fourth Fleet, +Jupiterian Combine, until such +time as its further dispensation +shall have been agreed. You will, +therefore, admit said Fleet upon +demand, permitting it to take up +such stations as it may desire, in +either zone, or to land, in whole or +in part, and to disembark such of +its personnel as its commanding officer +may direct. You will make arrangements +with its commanding +officer for the joint administration +of the base. You will be held responsible +for the smooth operation +and successful accomplishment of +this undertaking. These orders are +effective immediately."</p> + +<p>Commander Morgan smiled.</p> + +<p>"Send this reply immediately," +he said to his aide. "Open code. +Commander, Base Q, to General +Staff, Highest urgency. Acknowledge +receipt recent orders regarding +protocol revising Treaty of Porran. +Regret unable to comply. Due to +recent argument over interpretation +of Treaty of Porran, Fourth +Fleet, Combine, no longer exists. +Request further orders."</p> + +<p>He laughed.</p> + +<p>On earth, the officer who took +the message gaped at it. Seizing a +telephone, he dictated it to the Old +Man's aide. But when the Old Man +saw it, he only smiled, coldly.</p> + +<p>And his smile was bleak and cold, +too, when he laid it before the +President and the Cabinet an hour +later. Shortly afterwards, when the +President broadcast it to the people, +they sat, stunned. It was not +until the next day that they finally +read its significance and started +celebrating. But the Old Man had +ceased smiling by that time, and +was planning possible future +battles.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">A month later</span>, Morgan sat again +in the Old Man's office. Having +presented his report and swallowed +the unpleasant pill that, as he was +now a hero, there were speeches to +make and banquets to be bored at, +he was talking informally.</p> + +<p>"What I can't understand, sir, is +why they came in. They only had +to wait a couple of hours and the +whole kit and caboodle would have +been dumped in their laps. Yet they +come barging in and give us exactly +the opening we want. I don't get +it."</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> an interesting question," +the Old Man replied with a shadow +of a twinkle. "You might almost +think they had intercepted an order +I sent to our Intelligence Officer, +on Q, to sabotage the Converter +if the protocol was signed."</p> + +<p>The Commander jumped. "Was +that order given, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was. But it was countermanded +an hour later. Different +channel, however. I remembered +they had broken the code of the first +channel."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment. "That +illustrates a good point to remember, +Morgan. You intercept enemy +messages and break their code. A +very useful trick. Also very dangerous, +if the enemy discovers you +have broken it, and you don't know +that he knows. Very dangerous, indeed."</p> + +<p>The young man laughed. The +older one smiled, bleakly.</p> + +<p>As Morgan looked out the window, +he saw the public news-casters +spelling out the full mobilization +of the Federation. A glow +filled his heart as he realized the +people were now willing, if they +had to, to fight to defend their +freedom.</p> + +<p class="pa1">THE END</p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="136" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>If: Worlds of Science Fiction</i> November 1952. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Generals Help Themselves, by M. C. Pease + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENERALS HELP THEMSELVES *** + +***** This file should be named 31680-h.htm or 31680-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/8/31680/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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C. Pease + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Generals Help Themselves + +Author: M. C. Pease + +Release Date: March 17, 2010 [EBook #31680] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENERALS HELP THEMSELVES *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: _The fleet came in at four o'clock._] + + + _With no one to help him, it seemed the General was lost. But the + enemy was soon to discover that--_ + + GENERALS HELP THEMSELVES + + By M. C. Pease + + +"Did it go well?" the aide asked. + +The admiral, affectionately known as the Old Man, did not reply until +he'd closed the door, crossed the room, and dropped into the chair at +his desk. Then he said: + +"Go well? It did not go at all. Every blasted one of them, from the +President on down, can think of nothing but the way the Combine over-ran +Venus. When I mention P-boats, they shout that the Venusians depended on +P-boats, too, and got smashed by the Combine's dreadnoughts in one +battle. 'You can't argue with it, man,' they tell me. And they won't +listen." + +"But the Venusians fought their P-ships idiotically," the aide +complained. "It was just plain silly to let small, light, fast ships +slug it out with dreadnoughts. If they had used Plan K--" + +The Old Man snorted. + +"Are you trying to convince me? I've staked my whole reputation on Plan +K. They wouldn't give me the money to build a balanced space-fleet, even +when the fleets of the Combine of Jupiterian Satellite States were +staring them in the face. So, I took what I could get and poured it into +P-boats. I threw all our engineering and scientific staff into making +them faster and more maneuverable than anyone ever thought a space-ship +could be. I got them to build me electronic computers that could direct +that speed. And, two years ago, every cent I could lay my hands on went +to install the computers on all our ships." + +"I remember," the aide said. + +"But, now the chips are down, the people have funked out on me. I am one +of the most hated men in the Federation. They say I destroyed their +Navy. And, we are not going to get a chance to try Plan K. They decided, +today, to accept the Combine's offer to send envoys in a month to +discuss possible revision of the Treaty of Porran. When I left, they +were wondering if there was any chance of getting out for less than Base +Q." + +"But, good lord, sir, Base Q supplies nine tenths of all our power. The +Combine will have a strangle hold on us, if they get that." + +"Quite. But the people will give it to them, rather than fight. And the +President will sign." + +"Surely, sir, the people are not all cowards?" + +"No. If they had time to think, they would fight. That's why the Combine +is striking now. The people are panicky. Hysterical. The collapse of +Venus was so sudden, and the disaster to their P-boats so complete. +They've just lost hope. Most people would rather live under a dictator +than die to no purpose. They've just lost hope." + +The pounding of the Old Man's fist measured his words and the depth of +his anger. + +"If we could only make them hope. Somehow. Anyhow." + +Suddenly, his clenched fist stopped in mid-air. He frowned. Slowly, his +hand opened. The frown relaxed and a smile replaced it. + +"Maybe we can, at that. Maybe we can." He leaned back with his eyes half +closed. His aide knew better than to interrupt him. Ten minutes later, +he opened his eyes. + +"Make arrangements to have Commander Morgan take command of Base Q as +soon as possible. Within two days at the outside." His manner was curt +and clipped. "And bring him here to me before he leaves." + +"Yes, sir. But may I say, sir, I do not understand?" + +"You're not supposed to." + +"Yes, sir." + +The aide was a competent man. Orders were written that afternoon, in +complete disregard of normal red-tape. Base Q was advised of the +imminent shift. Commander Stanley Morgan boarded a jet plane on the +Australian desert that night. The next morning, he was shown into the +Old Man's office. + +"Commander," the Old Man said after the preliminaries were taken care +of, "as you are well aware, you have been in considerable disgrace, +recently, for getting too close to the Venusian-Combine war, in defiance +of orders. It has been felt, in certain quarters, that you might have +caused a serious international crisis." + + * * * * * + +The junior officer started to speak, but the admiral waved him to +silence. + +"You could, if you like, point out that the crisis has come, anyhow. As +a matter of fact, I never felt that that phase of your action was too +important. I did, however, deplore your disregard of orders--and still +do." He paused a moment, while his steel gray eyes studied the younger +man. "You are about to receive new orders. It is absolutely imperative +that these orders be obeyed explicitly." His pointing finger punctuated +his words with slow emphasis. + +"These orders place you in command of Base Q. The Treaty of Porran, +among other things, designates the asteroid Quanlik, or Base Q, as being +the territory solely of the Federation and suitable for the +establishment of a delta-level energy converter. Because this converter +is the prime source of gamma-level, degenerate matter which is used as +the fuel for nearly all our power generators, Base Q is recognized as a +prime defense area of the Federation. A sphere, one hundred thousand +miles radius about Quanlik, was designated by the treaty as a primary +zone. Any ship or ships entering this zone may be ordered to leave +within one hour. Upon failure to comply, our military forces may take +such action as they deem necessary. A sphere, twenty thousand miles +radius, is designated as the secondary zone. Assuming the prior warning +has been given upon their entrance into the primary zone, full action +may be taken against any ship entering this without delay or further +warning. + +"Standing orders with regard to Base Q are that any ship entering the +primary zone shall be warned immediately. Upon failure to comply, after +the one hour period, full action shall be taken with the forces +stationed on Quanlik. Any ship entering the secondary zone shall be +brought to action as soon as possible without warning. + +"Your orders direct you to assume command of Base Q and to comply with +existing standing orders regarding the maintenance of its security until +and unless advised of a change in the standing orders or the Treaty of +Porran." The Old Man paused for effect. "Any questions?" + +"Yes, sir," the younger man said. "I am wondering if I should inquire +what events you are anticipating. Would it be wise for me to ask?" + +"No!" The monosyllable cracked out like a shot. + +"No further questions, sir." + +"I have one. While you were in Australia, I presume you kept well +informed on recent developments of Plan K?" + +"Yes, sir. The school I commanded taught advanced theory of Plan K." + +"Very good. You will proceed immediately to Base Q. As a final word I +will repeat the absolute necessity of obeying your orders _to the +letter_! Good luck." + +The young man saluted, collected his orders and walked out. Two hours +later, he was in space. + + * * * * * + +Commander Morgan's office was perched in a plastic bubble high on a crag +overlooking Base Q. Directly below it lay a few of the multitude of +locks that provided haven for the protecting fleet of P-ships. A vast +array of domes and other geometrical shapes bore witness to the hive of +machine-shops, storerooms, offices, et al, that kept the fleet +operating. And on the far horizon towered the mighty structure of the +delta-level converter, the reason for the existence of Base Q. A quarter +of a million tons of high-test steel and special alloys, machined to +tolerances of less than a thousandth of an inch, with another hundred +thousand tons of control equipment, it was yet delicate enough so that +it could not have functioned in the gravity field of any planet. This +asteroid, small as it was, was barely below the permissible limit. + +The Commander sat at his desk, watching the latest flashes in the +news-caster. They were not good. At this very moment, the President of +the Federation was in conference with the representatives of the +Combine, discussing the wording of the protocol that would probably be +signed in a few hours. And no word--no hint--that anyone in the +Federation outside the services was willing to dare anything at all. A +red light flashed on his desk. A buzzer sounded a strident call. He +flipped a switch. "Commander talking." + +"Far-Search talking. Report contact with large group of ships, probably +dreadnought warships. Range, two one oh. Bearing, four oh dash one nine. +Speed, seven five. Course, approaching. That is all." + +"Keep me advised any change or further details. Advise when contact +range is one five oh." + +"Wilco." + +The Commander pressed a button on his desk. In response, his staff +quickly assembled to brief him on the immediate status of Base Q as a +war-making machine. As a matter of routine, it was always kept fully +ready. His staff merely confirmed this for him. + +Seventy-five thousand miles out in space, the Radars of the Far-Search +net swept their paths. Men labored over their plotting tables, noting +the information the radar echoes brought back; slowly piecing together +the picture. Tight communication beams relayed the data back to the base +as fast as it was obtained. + +About an hour later, the red light flashed again. The assembled staff +fell quiet as the Commander flipped the switch, again. "Commander +talking." + +"Far-Search talking. Contact previously reported now range one five oh. +Bearing, four one dash one seven. Course, approaching. Speed, six nine. +Estimated twenty-three ships, dreadnought type, plus small ship screen. +Battle formation. That is all." + +"Advise at range one one oh." + +"Wilco." + +The Commander turned to his staff. "Sound a general alert." His words +were clipped and clear. He flipped a second switch on his desk. "Radio, +this is the Commander. Get me a direct beam to the Chief of Staff. +Highest urgency. Scramble with sequence Charlie." + +His office had emptied by now, with officers running to their posts as +the siren of the general alert wailed through the corridors. As its +urgent call died off, a green light showed on his desk, indicating +contact with earth. "Morgan, Commander, Base Q, requesting direct line +to Chief of Staff. Highest urgency." + +"Go ahead, Morgan." The Old Man's voice sounded peculiar after passing +through the scrambling and unscrambling machines that twisted the sounds +into queer pieces and distributed them among several frequencies and +methods of modulation. But, even so, it had a note of strain in it that +was not artificial. + +"Sir, when you gave me my orders, here, you directed me to obey them _to +the letter_, without question or cavil. Is that right, sir?" + +"Yes, it is." There was a threat in the Old Man's voice. + +"Then, sir, would you tell me if there has been any change in those +orders since my arrival? Aside from administrative details, of course?" + +"No. Absolutely not." + +"Very good, sir. Sorry to have bothered you." + +"Not at all. Quite right. Good luck. Signing out." + +Morgan thought the Old Man sounded relieved at the end. And he could not +be quite sure, but he thought he heard the Admiral mutter "And good +hunting," as the connection broke. + +He summoned his aide to take over the office while he went down to the +center of the asteroid where I.C., the information center, was located, +where he would assume direct command of the base. + + * * * * * + +As he entered I.C., the Ships Supply Officer reported all ships fully +loaded and fueled with gamma-matter, ready for flight. The Missile +Officer reported all ships equipped with war-head missiles. The Lock +Officer reported all locks manned and ready. Base Q was ready. + +As he climbed to his chair over the plotting tank, he noted with +satisfaction the controlled tautness of the men's faces. They too, were +ready. + +As the glowing points of yellow light that represented the enemy fleet +crossed the dimly lit sphere in the tank that indicated the one hundred +thousand mile radius marking the edge of the primary zone, he took a +microphone from a man waiting, nearby. + +"Base Q to unknown fleet. I have you bearing four one dash one seven. +Range one oh oh. Identify yourself. Identify yourself. Over." His words +were spaced out with painful clarity. A hush had fallen over I.C. + +The loud-speaker on the wall came to life with a squawk, after a few +seconds. + +"Fleet Four to Base Q. This is Fleet Four, operating under orders from +the Jupiterian Combine. Over." + +"Base Q to Fleet Four. According to the Treaty of Porran, space within a +radius of one hundred thousand miles of Base Q has been designated a +primary defense zone of the Federation. I therefore order you to leave +this zone within one hour. Failure to comply will make you liable to +full action on our part. I have the time, now, as one three four seven. +You have until one four four seven to comply. I further warn you that an +approach within twenty thousand miles will make you liable to immediate +action, regardless of time. Over." + +The men in the room stared, open-mouthed. All had dreamed of hearing +these words spoken in these tones to the Combine. A cheer might have +been given, had it not been for discipline. + +In a few seconds, the loud-speaker squawked again. "Fleet Four to Base +Q. Our orders are to assume a position at twenty-five thousand miles +radius pending renegotiation of the Treaty of Porran. I suggest you +contact your headquarters before doing anything rash. Over." + +The Commander sat with a smile on his lips. Quietly he handed the +microphone back to the radioman. In a minute, the loud-speaker squawked, +again. "Fleet Four to Base Q. Did you receive my last transmission? +Acknowledge, please. Over." + +The radioman looked at the Commander, questioningly, but he only shook +his head. + +"Can't you turn that damn squawk-box off? It's distracting." + +As the minutes crept by, the bright dots in the tank moved closer. The +Commander took the Public Address microphone. + +"Attention, all personnel, this is the Commander talking. The Fourth +Fleet of the Combine entered the Zone twenty minutes ago. They were +given an ultimatum but are showing no indication of compliance. +Therefore, we are going to blast hell out of them." The echoes from his +voice rolled back from speakers all over the base. "The people at home +do not think we can do it. I know we can. I have not asked their +permission. It is not needed. My orders are explicit and fully cover the +situation. My orders to you are equally explicit. Go out there and teach +the bloody bastards a lesson." He turned back to the men in I.C. +"Scramble flights one, two, three, and four. Others to follow at +intervals of five minutes until all are in space. Flight plan King +Baker. Initial Time, one four five oh. Execute." + +The talkers took up the chant. + +"Flight one. Flight one. Scramble. Scramble. Execute." + +"Flight two ..." + +Etc. + +In the tank, green points of light moved out. The first four came into +position and stopped in the four quadrants of the circle of which the +center was the point at which the enemy would be at Initial Time. The +following flights moved out to other points on the circle. + +Time seemed to stop. In I.C., the Flight Directors gave the orders that +moved their flights into position and briefed them on future tactics in +quiet voices. The electronic computers and other devices moved silently. +The clock made no noise as its hands moved towards the final moment. + +The Commander moved some dials under his hands. He pushed a button and a +red light showed on the lead dreadnought of the enemy column. + +"This is the initial target." The designation was relayed to the +flights. + +The second hand of the clock was making its final sweep. All voices +quieted. The Commander raised his fist. As the clock's hand came to the +top, his fist slashed down. + +"Execute!" The battle was on. + + * * * * * + +Flight Commander Dennis, Flight One, heard the final word as he sat in +the small bubble on top of the dense package of machinery that was a +P-ship. Swiftly, his hands closed switches. The course had already been +chosen and fed into the automatic computers under him. He merely gave +the signal to execute. In response, the ship seemed to pick itself up +and hurl itself down the radius of the circle to the waiting enemy +fleet. + +He could not see them, but he knew that, behind him, lay the other nine +ships of the flight, in column, spaced so close that an error in +calculation of but a few millionths of a second would have caused +disaster. But the automatic and inconceivably fast and accurate +calculators in the ships, tied together by tight communication beams, +held them there in safety. + +As he came within range of possible enemy action, Dennis pressed another +button, and the Random Computer took command. Operated by the noise a +vacuum tube generates because electrons are discrete particles, it gave +random orders, weighted only by a preference to bring the ship's course +back to the remembered target. + +The column behind obeyed these same orders. The whole flight seemed to +jitter across space, moving at random but coming back to a reasonably +good course towards the target, utterly confusing any enemy fire-control +computers. + +To the men in the ships, one to each, it seemed as if their very nerve +cells must jar apart. They felt themselves incapable of coherent action, +or, even, thought. But they did not need coherency. Their function was +done until the ship was out of danger, when a new formation would be +made, a new target designated, and a new order to execute given. + +Because the electronic computers took care of the attack. They had to. +No human could react as fast as was needed. Out from the enemy ships +reached fingers of pure delta-field, reaching for gamma-matter. The +touch of a finger meant death in a fiery inferno as the gamma-matter +that fueled the ship and formed the war-heads of their lethal eggs would +release its total energy. There was only one defense. The delta-field +could be propagated only in a narrow beam, and at a rate much slower +than the speed of light. By keeping the enemy computers confused, they +kept those beams wandering aimlessly through space, always where the +little ships might have been, but were not. Unless their luck ran out. + +Flight One kept moving in, with constantly increasing speed, except for +random variations. Once through the outer screen of small ships, a relay +closed and the link was broken between the ships of the column. Each +then moved in independent manner. The designated target was an area to +the computers, rather than a ship. Radar beams reached out to find +specific targets. As they found them and moved close, the random +computer switched off for a small moment of time, while the missiles +were dispatched on a true bearing. And then the ships moved on, leaving +their eggs behind them. + +The eggs moved in with fantastic acceleration to their targets. Half +their energy went into that acceleration, to get them there before the +delta beams could find them. The other half was given up in incandescent +heat when they found their targets. Becoming pinpoints of pure star +matter, they seared their way into the enemy vitals. But, even with +their fantastically concentrated energy, it was not enough. For the +dreadnoughts were armored with densely degenerate matter, impervious to +any but a direct hit, and compartmented to require many hits. + +The flights moved in and passed on through. And other flights came in. +And others followed them. The first flights halted, found each other, +turned, and drove in again. Pass and repass. A myriad of blue-white +flashes gave measure of the struggle. + + * * * * * + +On Base Q, in the I.C. room, the Commander watched the tank. Curt orders +designated new target areas as the enemy fleet broke up under the +whiplash. Slowly, one by one, the points of light that marked the enemy +vanished, leaving only the void. + +Finally, as must any fleet that faces annihilation, they turned and +fled. The battle was over. All that remained was to give the orders to +bring the flights home. And that was soon done. + +The Commander got up. He stretched. He was tired. He glanced at the +clock. Two hours and forty minutes. Very quick, indeed, as space battles +usually went. But, then, he thought grimly, this had been the first +battle ever fought under the whiplash of Plan K. + +But, now, there was a report to be made. And he did not know how to do +it. As he walked back wearily to his office, he tried out phrases in his +mind. None seemed to fit. + +His aide was bending over the facsimile machine as he came in. "Priority +orders from the General Staff, just coming in, sir." + +The Commander looked at the machine. "General Staff to Commander, Base +Q, Urgent, Immediate Action," he read. "You are hereby advised that a +protocol has been signed at Washington, D.C., with representatives of +the Combine, revising the Treaty of Porran to the extent that Base Q +shall be jointly administered by yourself and the Commander, Fourth +Fleet, Jupiterian Combine, until such time as its further dispensation +shall have been agreed. You will, therefore, admit said Fleet upon +demand, permitting it to take up such stations as it may desire, in +either zone, or to land, in whole or in part, and to disembark such of +its personnel as its commanding officer may direct. You will make +arrangements with its commanding officer for the joint administration of +the base. You will be held responsible for the smooth operation and +successful accomplishment of this undertaking. These orders are +effective immediately." + +Commander Morgan smiled. + +"Send this reply immediately," he said to his aide. "Open code. +Commander, Base Q, to General Staff, Highest urgency. Acknowledge +receipt recent orders regarding protocol revising Treaty of Porran. +Regret unable to comply. Due to recent argument over interpretation of +Treaty of Porran, Fourth Fleet, Combine, no longer exists. Request +further orders." + +He laughed. + +On earth, the officer who took the message gaped at it. Seizing a +telephone, he dictated it to the Old Man's aide. But when the Old Man +saw it, he only smiled, coldly. + +And his smile was bleak and cold, too, when he laid it before the +President and the Cabinet an hour later. Shortly afterwards, when the +President broadcast it to the people, they sat, stunned. It was not +until the next day that they finally read its significance and started +celebrating. But the Old Man had ceased smiling by that time, and was +planning possible future battles. + + * * * * * + +A month later, Morgan sat again in the Old Man's office. Having +presented his report and swallowed the unpleasant pill that, as he was +now a hero, there were speeches to make and banquets to be bored at, he +was talking informally. + +"What I can't understand, sir, is why they came in. They only had to +wait a couple of hours and the whole kit and caboodle would have been +dumped in their laps. Yet they come barging in and give us exactly the +opening we want. I don't get it." + +"That _is_ an interesting question," the Old Man replied with a shadow +of a twinkle. "You might almost think they had intercepted an order I +sent to our Intelligence Officer, on Q, to sabotage the Converter if the +protocol was signed." + +The Commander jumped. "Was that order given, sir?" + +"Yes, it was. But it was countermanded an hour later. Different channel, +however. I remembered they had broken the code of the first channel." + +He paused a moment. "That illustrates a good point to remember, Morgan. +You intercept enemy messages and break their code. A very useful trick. +Also very dangerous, if the enemy discovers you have broken it, and you +don't know that he knows. Very dangerous, indeed." + +The young man laughed. The older one smiled, bleakly. + +As Morgan looked out the window, he saw the public news-casters spelling +out the full mobilization of the Federation. A glow filled his heart as +he realized the people were now willing, if they had to, to fight to +defend their freedom. + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _If: Worlds of Science Fiction_ + November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling + and typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Generals Help Themselves, by M. C. 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