Starfist: Firestorm by David Sherman & Dan Cragg Read Free Book Online Page B

taken to get to Gilbert’s Corners—“I believe an attack is imminent and I suggest you communicate this intelligence to your gov’mint ’n’ evacuate to a safer location.”
    Preston Summers, President of the Coalition of Independent Worlds, gazed silently at the rotund figure. Slowly he removed the cigar from the side of his mouth, fished out tobacco shreds with a finger, and said, “Gawdam cheap seegars, fall apart on ya before they’s even halfway smoked.” He wiped his finger on his trousers. “So ya think this place is gonna turn into a battlefield, Gen’ral?”
    “I know it is, sir.”
    “Then we’re fucked, aren’t we?” Summers squinted through the cigar smoke.
    “Wouldn’t put it quite that way, sir.”
    “Don’t shit me, Gen’ral. They’ve awreddy attacked us here once, ’n’ they’s plannin’ on doin’ it agin, ain’t they? Only this time they’re comin’ with a force big enough to hold this place. Well, we survived that first attack so what makes you think we won’t weather this one you think is comin’ now?”
    “That was just a probe, Mr. President, to prove they could attack you at will; to scare you to keep you off balance—”
    “Sure scared the stuffings outta me!”
    “They even kidnapped some of your officials that time, didn’t they?”
    Summers laughed. “Hauled ol’ Heb Cawman off like a sack o’ sticks, they did! I wonder what he’s tole ’em by now? Y’know, we did talk about evacuatin’ Gilbert’s Corners some time ago, Cawman, some others ’n’ me. He was against it at the time, as I recall. Best thing ever happened to this war for us was them capturin’ that ol’ galoot.”
    “General Lyons also arrested some of the other members of that Committee on the Conduct of the War, didn’t he?”
    “Sartinly did, sartinly did, ’n’ he had reason to do it too. After this war is over you’ll know why, Gen’ral Clipper. Now answer me this: They’s gonna land on the coast ’n’ take Phelps too, ain’t they?”
    “They already have. A coast-watcher spotted them and notified General Lyons. He believes they’re headed straight here and my job is to stop them. I can’t protect you folks and do that at the same time.”
    Summers’s heart skipped a beat at that news but he only nodded. “What’s the size of the force they landed?”
    “Big enough to do the job, Mr. President.”
    Summers was silent briefly, thinking, Why the fuck didn’t Lyons beef up the coastal defenses instead of putting that goddamned useless MP battalion out there? But when he spoke, he said, “Well, I ain’t no strategist but seems to me Phelps is our back door.” He sighed. “Have a seegar, Gen’ral? ’Scuse me for not offerin’ you one sooner. They’s not top-quality smokes but they’s all I got right now. Gawdam blockade’s cut off my supply of the really good stuff. Now bourbon, different matter.” He produced a bottle and two glasses. “Join me.”
    “We don’t have much time, sir,” Clipper responded, lighting his cigar and accepting a glass of whiskey from Summers. In his hands the glass looked like a thimble. He toasted the president. “Damned good stuff, sir!”
    “It oughta be. Comes out of my own distillery. So why they comin’ here ’steada straight up the road to Ashburtonville?”
    Clipper shrugged. “This here is the head of the beast ’n’ they is gonna try to cut it off.”
    Summers guffawed loudly. “Gen’ral, lemme tell you a couple things. First off, this ain’t the head of nothing, it’s the ass end! Gen’ral Lyons is this war—he’s what’s holding it all together. All we do back here at Gilbert’s Corners is palaver, drink whiskey, ’n’ act big all day long. Why, the Confederation’d be crazy to attack this place ’n’ end all the confusion! And second, if they really is comin’ down here to attack this place, we have lost this war.”
    General Clipper finished his whiskey and stood up. “Mr. President, my orders,