General Roger J. Selwin, who had arrived on Farisha to take command of the garrison less than two days after the outbreak of the war, realized the sickening truth of the matter.
"God knows how long we can hold out," General Selwin said on the morning after the Venusians had estabished their preliminary footholds.
However, he didn't say this publicly, for it would have been giving assurance and comfort to the enemy. He said it in the privacy of his headquarters office on Farisha, and said it to one man.
That man was First Mate Harlan Dawson, of the luxury space liner, Astera, which was then moored in Farisha's space harbor.
Dawson was a big man, in his early thirties, with massive shoulders and ebon black hair. His eyes were so brown as to be almost black, and had the hard glitter of coal to them. His crooked, cynical grin and brutal handsomeness masked one of the shrewdest spacefaring minds in the eastern interplanetary belt.
Harlan Dawson listened to this statement from the Space General in command of the outpost, and lighted a thin, small, junovian cigar.
"Your predecessor was certainly asleep at the switch." Dawson remarked, the cigar bobbing between his even, white teeth. "Hell, your own round-up of Venusians on the base itself showed that more than a thousand were in our midst when the war broke out."
Space General Selwin sighed. "Asleep is no word for it, Dawson. It was negligence, criminal negligence. But, I suppose he was hampered as badly as I've been. The moment I arrived and looked the situation over, I space-radioed for at least another ten squadrons of space combat fighters and heavy space bombers. My space-radiogram has yet to be answered. We could use those bombers and fighters now, God knows."
"Can't shake 'em loose, eh?" Dawson said, referring to the Venusian invaders who'd established footholds on the six surrounding asteroids.
General Selwin's jaw was grim. "We can't even try. We have but two space combat squadrons
on Farisha, here. We don't have a single space bomber less than ten years old. Do you realize what that means, Dawson? Do you realize the hideous implications of it?"
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"Your predecessor was asleep at the switch."
Harlan Dawson nodded soberly. "I've realized it for some time, General. But hell. I'm just a civilian. I'd never have had a chance of rousing any of the military bigwigs here to action. I saw the first glimmerings of Venusian interplanetary ambitions over eight years ago. Hell, I was Master of a space freighter running between Earth and Venus when I was twenty-three. I quit when Venusian capital bought controlling interest in the company I worked under."
