Free Battlemind by William H Keith Page B

Confederates continue to show an astonishing inability to work together toward a common goal.”
    “So.”
    “Their command structure is disorganized, and the individual fleet components cannot even work with one another, much less with the Imperial Fleet. Last week there was an ugly incident in Jefferson, New America’s capital, between the crew members of a destroyer from Liberty and a cruiser from New America. I gather that several men ended up in a local hospital, and a spaceport bar was reduced to splintered furniture and shattered crockery.”
    In quiet, measured tones, Hideshi continued delivering his verbal report, relying on his RAM for most of the details and only once falling back on his computer, which maintained a data link with the main computer aboard Soraryu, docked at the Synchorbital. Unnervingly, Munimori continued to study the scroll, which appeared to be a collection of haiku by the twenty-second-century poet Hagiwara. Occasionally, the fleet admiral’s eyes would flicker toward Hideshi as he spoke, but outside of the occasional noncommittal grunt or “so,” he said nothing. That was deliberate, of course; if any part of Operation Shoki went wrong, Munimori would save both men and peace of mind knowing that he’d neither publicly praised nor officially condemned the idea.
    A nude, female servant appeared, a genie with long, silver-blond hair and downcast eyes, bearing tea on an antique lacquered tray. For a time, business was interrupted by polite and soft-spoken pleasantries. It was not the ritual of the full tea ceremony, of course, but there were the civilized amenities to observe.
    “Our agents report everywhere the same,” Hideshi concluded. “Confederation society and technology are changing rapidly, and the pace of that change is accelerating. Our Fleet sociologists believe that within seventy years, if things continue at this pace, the biotechnical gulf between the Frontier and the Imperial core worlds will have become un-crossable. This poses a grave danger to the future security of the Empire.”
    “This is so.” Munimori was silent for a time. He appeared to be in thought, and Hideshi elected to remain silent as well, rather than risk interrupting him. His report was nearly complete in any case.
    “Often,” Munimori said after another long pause, “the old ways, the conservative ways, are best. Too often, people rush forward blindly, embracing new ways, new technologies, new… things before those things are fully understood. Ne?”
    “Hai, Gensuisama.”
    “I do not trust those who embrace this so-called new biotechnology. The introduction of alien parasites into one’s own being… this lessens that which is human.”
    “Operation Shoki,” Hideshi said carefully, “will ensure that humanity remains human, Gensuisama. All is in readiness.”
    “How do you like your new command, Admiral?”
    “I was… most honored to receive this command, Gensuisama. Soraryu is an excellent ship, with a good crew. The squadron is well-trained and responsive. I have no doubts about their abilities.”
    “That is good.” Without another word, Munimori picked up the scroll of haiku and began reading from it again. Seconds later, Hideshi felt a presence at his elbow; a servant had appeared, called silently by Munimori’s cephlink. The interview was over.
    Hideshi was somewhat troubled as he left the admiral’s quarters. No specific orders had been given, but within the framework of custom and haragei, a word poorly translated as visceral communication—speaking without words—Munimori had told him precisely what he wanted done. Execute Operation Shoki.
    It would be war.
    He felt a pounding excitement in his breast. With luck, Isoru Hideshi might earn for himself a place in the ViRhistory documentaries as the man who reconquered the Confederation for the Empire.
    And after that, Man would be united again… united and ready to face these strange, new gaijin from beyond the constellation