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capital. The sooner you're on the job, the sooner we'll stop losing this war!"
Combrit stood up. "Right. But don't expect too much. That creature Monte is
more than a communications network. If we succeed in putting real pressure on
the Lontastans, they might well respond by assigning duties to Monte similar
to those you're giving me. And let's face it . . . my brain must compare to
Monte's the same way an implant computer compares to that desk job in the
Board chamber."
"Well, we'll see," replied Morimet, pleased that Combrit had recognized that
key point in the situation without prompting.
* * *
Within weeks after assuming the duties of Executive, Combrit began stemming
the tide of Lontastan victory. This was most immediately evident in Trade
Credit Flow statistics, which had been running in high negative figures for
the Primgran Commonality for two decades. Before the end of a standard year,
Combrit's fast and effective trade moves had brought the TCF down to within a
trillion dollars of parity.
And in one memorable trading day on the Open World of Exchange, the
Primgranese General Stock average soared twenty-nine percent and on low-volume
turnover. Obviously, this unprecedented gain was not due to a flood of
raid-buying by Lontastan adherents, but to a sudden decline in selling
decisions by Primgranese holders. On that same day the more vulnerable
Primgranese Frontals ran up a forty percent gain, also on low volume.
The formerly depressed Primgranese stocks were now safely priced and no longer
inviting to potential raid-buying.
Then, having brought the econo-war back to even terms, Combrit began swinging
it in the
Commonality's favor.
He was jubilant, as were all members of the High Board of Trade, except
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Morimet. The old man took praise for the success of his proposal more grumpily
than gracefully. It was evident to him, as well as to some of his associates,
that his fixation was getting him down.
"Get rid of it, Radge," Grayme urged him after one of the in-person Board
sessions. "Perhaps it served a useful function for a while, but we have
Combrit now. Living in unsanity is too far beyond the call of duty. Let go of
it!"
Morimet grimaced unhappily. "Not yet," he replied. "Perhaps soon . . . but . .
. well, not yet." He turned and hurried away.
Combrit had heard the exchange, and walked up to the woman. "I think he means
to hang on until he sees what the Lontastans will try to do to counter our
successes," he told her.
"That's needless!" she complained. "You've demonstrated that you can handle
any response of the enemy with more effectiveness than Radge possibly could."
"He obviously doesn't see it that way," Combrit replied.
Grayme shrugged. "Who knows how that man sees anything?
That constant slam-slam-slam shuts him off from everybody."
Combrit nodded. "I'm glad my own fixation involves nothing like that. Fact is,
I'm quite comfortable with it. But for him, that trauma must be like a painful
wound on an otherwise healthy and alert
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body . . . not bad enough to dull the alertness and thus deaden the pain for
him. It has to be a torture to live with, simply because it stands alone and
can't be ignored."
"I'm glad your fixation has worked out so well," Grayme said. "I opposed it,
and I'm glad I've been proven wrong."
* * *
Then within days the situation changed again.
In a stunningly brilliant series of market maneuvers, Lontastan raiders seized
majority control of
Midgard Starstream, a pivotal holding corporation on the Primgranese Frontal
list that had territorial as well as industrial significance. It had been
firmly in Primgranese hands for more than a century and a half.
Combrit's report to the High Board concluded grimly:
"The Lontastan Council of Commerce, presumably with reluctance similar to this
Board's in establishing the position of Executive, appears to have responded
in kind. I assume from the efficiency of the
Midgard Starstream raid that the creature Monte was selected the Lontastan
'Executive'. For sheer mass of brainpower, Monte obviously outclasses any
human, or any presently conceivable artificial mental construct.
"Two positive factors should apply, however. First, the Lontastan Federation
may employ Monte with restraint, disliking as would we relinquishment of a
human conflict to nonhuman control. Second, Monte lacks man's heritage of
combativeness. This, plus the special preparation I was given for my present
duties, should leave us with a definite motivational edge."
Domler messaged Morimet: "Damn it, Radge, a lot of good motivation is going to
do us when that
Monte monster can outscheme a dozen Combrits. They can murder us!"
Morimet snorted. "Don't bet on it! One positive factor both you and Combrit
seem to be missing is that we hold the creative initiative."
"What creative initiative?"
"They're copying us, we're not copying them. We establish an Executive, then
they imitate our action.
Before that, we came up with emo-monitor implants, and they followed suit as
soon as they could develop the gadget for themselves. One edge that gives
us among several is that it makes the
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Lontastans tend to hold back, to guard themselves against whatever unexpected
initiative we may hit them with next."
"All right, I'm not saying the econo-war's lost," Domler said, "but I am
saying that adoption of your
Executive scheme hasn't gained us a thing, at best, and for the moment at any
rate it's proving costly."
"So it is," Morimet replied agreeably, "but let's wait and see how it goes for
a while."
"Morimet, are you withholding information from the Board?" the Chairman asked
suspiciously.
"Nothing is being withheld," growled Morimet. "As for certain opinions and
expectations I might entertain, based on data known to all of you, those are
my business until I care to express them."
Domler broke off communication brusquely.
* * *
The war continued to go discouragingly for the Primgran Commonality. There
were no further coups of the scope of the Midgard Starstream seizure, but
almost every action wound up favorably for Lontasta.
When the enemy did not achieve a small victory, at least victory was denied
the industrialists of
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Primgran.
At last Morimet paid a visit to Combrit's office, Executive Control. He stood
in the middle of the room, staring about critically at the sumcom consoles,
the Executive's three immediate assistants, and at
Combrit himself. Judging from the man's strained appearance, and by the
presence of a cot in a corner of the room, Combrit had been living in his
office day and night.
"You're pushing yourself too hard, Glan," he said.
Combrit laughed wryly. "Monte's doing the pushing, Radge, not me! What a brain
that creature's got!
And evidently he never sleeps. I have to stay on my toes constantly, and . . .
and" he slumped his shoulders "well . . . we're still losing."
Morimet had observed Combrit's emotions closely while he spoke. Frustration
was heavy. Events were running counter to the demand of Combrit's fixation.
And there was a definite flicker of admiration when he mentioned Monte.
"O.K.," Morimet replied. "The solution is to not let him keep pushing you.
You're not glued to this office, Glan! Your assistants know standard economic
strategics and tactics and can hold the fort. Get away from these clattering
consoles a while, where you can think."
Combrit frowned. "I'd better stick around . . . never know when something
urgent will come up."
"But what are communications for!" snapped Morimet. "You can stay in touch
wherever you go. Look, Glan, I've lived with a fixation a hell of a lot longer
than you have, and I've learned some tricks about dealing with one. And I say
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