“The thing I don’t see,” Ellsner said, “is why you can’t do something about the pattern?
Retreat and regroup, for example?”
“I’ll explain that,” Margraves said.
“It’ll give Ed a chance for a drink.
Come over here.”
He led Ellsner to an instrument panel.
They had been showing Ellsner around the ship for three days, more to relieve their own tension than for any other reason.
The last day had turned into a fairly prolonged drinking bout.
“Do you see this dial?”
Margraves pointed to one.
The instrument panel covered an area four feet wide by twenty feet long. The buttons and switches on it controlled the movement of the entire fleet
“Notice the shaded area.
That marks the safety limit.
If we use a forbidden configuration, the indicator goes over and all hell breaks loose.”
“And what is a forbidden configuration?”
Margraves thought for a moment. “The forbidden configurations are those which would give the enemy an attack advantage.
Or, to put it in another way, moves which change the attack-probability-loss picture sufficiently to warrant an attack.”
“So you can move only within strict limits?” Ellsner asked, looking at the dial.
“That’s right.
Out of the infinite number of possible formation, we can use only a few, if we want to play safe.
It’s like chess.
Say you’d like to put a sixth row pawn in your opponent’s back row.
But it would take two moves to do it.
And after you move to the seventh row, your opponent has a clear avenue, leading inevitably to checkmate.
“Of course, if the enemy advances too boldly the odds are changed again, and we attack.”
“That’s our only hope,” General Branch said.
“We’re praying they do something wrong.
The fleet is in readiness for instant attack, if our CPC shows that the enemy has over-extended himself anywhere.”
“And that’s the reason for the crack-ups,” Ellsner said.
“Every man in the fleet on nerves’ edge, waiting for a chance he’s sure will never come.
But having to wait anyhow.
How long will this go on?”
“This moving and checking can go on for a little over two years,” Branch said.
“Then they will be in the optimum formation for attack, with a twenty-eight percent loss probability to our ninety-three.
They’ll have to attack then, or the probabilities will start to shift back in our favor.”
“You poor devils,” Ellsner said softly.
“Waiting for a chance that’s never going to come. Knowing you’re going to be blasted out of space sooner or later.”
“Oh, it’s jolly,” said Margraves, with an instinctive dislike for a civilian’s sympathy.
Something buzzed on the switchboard, and Branch walked over and plugged in a line.
“Hello?
Yes.
Yes.... All right, Williams.
Right.”
He unplugged the line.
“Colonel Williams has had to lock his men in their rooms,” Branch said.
“That’s the third time this month.
I’ll have to get CPC to dope out a formation so we can take him out of the front.”
He walked to a side panel and started pushing buttons.
“And there it is,” Margraves said.
“What do you plan to do, Mr. Presidential Representative?” The glittering dots shifted and deployed, advanced and retreated, always keeping a barrier of black space between them. The mechanical chess players watched each move, calculating its effect into the far future. Back and forth across the great chess board the pieces moved. The chess players worked dispassionately, knowing beforehand the outcome of the game. In their strictly ordered universe there was no possible fluctuation, no stupidity, no failure. They moved. And knew. And moved.