The admiral studied the display oh his machine for a moment.

"The sentence structure in three is a bit baroque," he said. "Delete the clause beginning with 'the remnant of...' and ending with '...Squadron,' and substitute 'the traitors of the ORS.'"

"Do you want a cup of coffee before the meeting?"

"No," said Simon Whelan, duly elected captain of the SS Wyoming, "a glass of whiskey, perhaps, but coffee won't do."

"You want anesthesia, we have novocaine," said Carol Tower. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Why can't we be more like a navy, for God's sake?"

"Why can't a woman be more like a man?" Carol replied. "If we were a navy, we wouldn't be having all these stupid meetings. Why are we having the meetings?"

"So we can get five ships and fifteen political parties to agree on a 'proper' course of action," he said.

"Assuming we can find a proper course of action," his executive officer said, "do you think we have that many parties? The SS Tampa had a cell of the Radical Intransigent Party on board before the mutiny, and they kind of took over the ship afterward ... All the anarchists and radical left do what the RIP says. One ship, one party, right?"

"That's the local RIP," Whelan said, putting on his blue jacket. "Party headquarters in Mexico City makes a big deal out of having control of a warship, but Malevitch is his own ... ah, man. Asshole, asshole, burning bright, on the potty of the night..."

"They send him money," she said. "What about the Havana and the Halifax?"

"What about them? All the disgruntled, incompetent, and malcontent Anglos in the L-Four Fleet wound up on these two ships when Admiral Jimenez organized El Quatro into the Mexican Navy."

"Right," Carol said. "Weren't they polarized on the issue of oral versus anal sex?"

"I heard it was over smoking dope or shooting it up," said Whelan. "That's four political parties right there."

"Bullshit," she said. "There isn't one coherent opinion on the two ships put together."

"We were talking about political parties," he replied. "You want coherence, try the San Francisco RATS."

"The Reactionary Activist Training School? We were talking political parties, not debate teams."

"So on the SS San Francisco you have the Constitutional Restoration Party," said Whelan. "Which is it?"

"You got me," Carol said. "Call it a political party. That makes two parties on four ships. What about our own beloved Wyoming?"

"What about the Wyoming? The ratings are totally insipid, and the officers are moderates and trimmers, so-called Old Regimists who weren't purged in thirty-three and thirty-four ... wishy-washy, namby-pamby, jelly-fishy technicians. The wimps wouldn't even approve a letter saying three cheers for the four generals!"

"And they picked you to be their leader! Gee whiz, sir! It says things about your character."

"The caucus convenes in two minutes," said a man's voice.

"So fifteen parties was maybe an exaggeration," said Whelan. "Any political parties is too many. You can't get the idiots together to do anything."

"That's true," agreed his executive officer. "Shall we go on camera and get the eighty-fifth Senior Officers Caucus of the Old Regimist Squadron on the road?"

"How come they didn't call it the Old Regimist Confederation?"

"I expect they couldn't find 'confederation' in the table of organization," Carol said. "Let's go." She opened the door and they went in to preside over the usual anarchy and chaos of the Senior Officers Caucus.

When the meeting had wended its weary way into new business, Whelan handed the gavel to Carol Tower.

"The next item on the agenda is by my own hand," he said. "I shall take the floor and turn the chair over to Madame Vice here for the duration of the debate. I propose to send a letter in the name of SOCORS, and this is it."

The letter floated up on the telecon screens around the ORS.

DRAFT MESSAGE FOR CAUCUS SIGNATURE,

(ORS LETTERHEAD)

Dear Governor Cantrell:

The 85th Caucus of Old Regimist Squadron Senior Officers has unanimously voted to congratulate Rosinante on its decision to become independent of the North American Union.

We also wish to express our gratification and profound satisfaction at the support which you have given to Captain Robert Lowell, a brother officer and comrade in arms.

In the event that the ORS can provide any assistance or support in your struggle with the NAU, please do not hesitate to call on us.

Sincerely,

"Is there any discussion?" asked Carol Tower, looking over the telecon screens which connected the four cruisers of the ORS with the battleship. Several hands were raised, and she pointed the gavel to Lieutenant Commander Paul Casey of the SS Halifax by way of recognition.

"As far as I'm concerned, Lowell just cut and ran," he said. "Maybe he wasn't the only one, but are we so goddamned happy to see him bugging out?"

"I agree," said a woman. "He started the Mutiny; he ought to have stuck it out with us." There was a general murmur of agreement.

"You want to delete 'gratification,' Paul?" Carol asked.

"Yes. I so move. I don't suppose we could say 'middling satisfaction,' could we?"

"I would hope not," said Carol. "Captain Whelan, what about deleting 'gratification'?"

"Now is the whimper of our discontent made glorious bitching by this son of dork," said Whelan.

"Does that mean you'll delete 'gratification'?" asked Carol. "We have a second."

"Yes," conceded Whelan. "Lowell will be cut to the quick, I have no doubt."

"Moving right along, the chair recognizes Captain Johnstone of the San Francisco."

"Thank you, Carol. A point of information. Why are we sending this letter?"

"Basically I'm fishing for an invitation to go to Rosinante," Whelan said. "The fact is, we can't stay where we are, and Rosinante is the first chance that's come up since the Mutiny."

"You could go to Meh-hico, senor," someone said. Carol rapped for order.

"The chair recognizes Gloria diLido of the SS Tampa."

"Victory or death," recited diLido. "The Radical Intransigents will never surrender and never retreat. It seems to me that Captain Whelan is being defeatist and retreatist"--she blinked her long black eyelashes in a kind of nervous tic--"and we have to struggle against retreatism and defeatism."

"So?" asked Carol.

"So I object to Captain Whelan's motive for sending the letter."

"Right. Do I understand that you do not wish to congratulate Rosinante on becoming independent?"

"Not exactly, Carol..." said diLido.

"Do you want to make a change in the letter?" asked Carol.

"I move we table the letter," said diLido.

"The chair does not recognize your motion, Dildo," said Carol. "Nothing personal, but the letter is going to a vote."

"Well," said diLido. She decided not to start a fight she figured to lose. "In that case, we ought to delete the third paragraph. We couldn't help Rosinante if they were silly enough to ask us."

"We have a second," said Carol. "Captain Johnstone?"

"Isn't that rank defeatism?"

"How about replacing the third paragraph with some RIP-snorting rhetoric?" said Whelan sarcastically.

"Move the question," said someone. The motion to delete the third paragraph passed six to five. Johnstone's motion to replace it with a request to be invited to Rosinante was hashed over and tabled.

"The chair recognizes Dr. Blanchard of the SS Halifax."

"Is it true that they built a very large laser on Rosinante?" she asked.

"Probably," said Carol. "What has that to do with sending the letter?"

"Well, it makes a difference whether or not we want to go there," said Dr. Blanchard. "Does anyone know?"

"We haven't been invited yet," said Carol. "Captain Whelan?"

"One of our people on Laputa has a lover in the Optical Surveillance Lab," he said. "The preliminary estimate is that the laser in question is more than ten meters in diameter and maybe seventeen kilometers long."

"How do they pump it?" asked someone.

"With the Mitsubishi Dragon Scale Mirror they have out there," said Whelan. "It looks like they reflect the sunlight from millions of little mirrors into the big laser."

"You know that can't work, don't you?" snapped diLido.

"You know it, and I know it," said Carol, "but Cantrell is the one getting the letter of congratulations."

"Well, it won't work," said diLido. "Lasers have to be pumped with monochromatic light."

"It must be done with mirrors," said Whelan. "I move the question."

The amended letter was approved and signed, dated 23 January '42. A reply came back promptly.