by Glen Cook
“You going to be in the mood for a game after this?” McClennon asked. Mouse had not shown much interest in chess lately, either.
“I don’t think so. What’s going on?” A petty officer was whispering to the Admiral.
Beckhart announced, “The Sangaree just left Stars’ End. They left the McGraws to the Starfishers.” He smiled. “Looks like the incidence of piracy may fall off.”
“What will they do?” McClennon asked.
“We don’t know. Let’s hope they give it a good think. I left Strehltsweiter with a message for her bosses. Maybe Homeworld will make them listen.”
“What kind of message?” Mouse demanded.
“I told them to change their ways. I said I’m not interested in wiping them out, but I will if they don’t shape up. I told them I could repeat the lesson at Osiris if they insist. I let her think we know where Osiris is, too.”
“Do you?” Thomas asked.
“No. I lie a lot.”
For the next week McClennon split his time between the Psych and scientific teams. The Psych sessions bled the pressure off his chaotic mind. Gradually one personality—McClennon—took hold. He suffered only one minor episode.
Marathon dropped hyper off Three Sky. Signals from von Drachau’s Lepanto indicated that she and her escort had penetrated the Yards. There had been a few skirmishes, but nothing serious. The Starfishers were talking, but stalling.
The Admiral observed, “Gruber is trying to fox us. He’s sitting tight at Stars’ End. Know what he’s doing? Betting to an inside straight. He’s thinking, if he can pull some of those weapons out quick enough, he can turn the tables on us.”
Beckhart thereupon demonstrated his proconsular power. He contacted the Seiner leadership, told them the time. He designated it as launch minus twenty-five hours. He ordered the channel kept open and the countdown broadcast at five-minute intervals. Incoming traffic was to be recorded and otherwise ignored. Requests for delays and further negotiations consequently fell on deaf ears.
At launch minus two hours twelve minutes the Seiners of Three Sky surrendered unconditionally. Fleet Marines began occupying key installations immediately.
Beckhart summoned McClennon. “Thomas, we’ve finished twisting their arms here. Find your lady and ask her if she’s going or staying. We space for Stars’ End in one hour.”
“Yes sir. Sir, I just came through Communications. The Sangaree raidfleet is still headed for Homeworld.”
“Good. We’ll be able to release a few squadrons, then.” His eyes went glassy. “The big strike is getting closer. The Blues have picked their spot. We’re waiting till the other side walks into it. Find your lady.”
Amy was easily found. She would not leave her cabin unless dragged. He knocked. “It’s McClennon,” he said. “The Admiral sent me.”
She seldom talked to him unless under pretext of business.
“What does he want?”
“We’re spacing for Stars’ End. You want to stay here, or go along?”
“They gave up?”
“They didn’t have much choice.”
She sighed. “Moyshe, I try hard to understand what’s happening. But I can’t. Do you think he’ll keep his word?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. We’ll find out the hard way. He’ll leave people here to establish the new order. I wish I could find out what their instructions are. What are you going to do? You have to decide quick. We’re ready to leave.”
“I’m going to Stars’ End. Consuela is out there. They made her head of the whole team.”
“Well, good for her.” He did not depart immediately. She refused the opportunity he offered.
It keeps right on hurting, he thought as he stalked along the passageway. She won’t even try to understand.
After relaying Amy’s decision, he went looking for his partner.
He found Mouse in the wardroom, staring mindlessly into a holovision cube. He sat, “What’s the matter, old buddy? Want to talk?”
Reluctantly, Mouse killed the holoshow. “Not yet, Tommy. I’m not ready.”
“All right. You noticed that little blonde Lieutenant from Weapons? Tanni Something.”
“From B Missiles? Primo stuff. Looks like she’d turn a man every way but loose. There’s something about the little ones…”
“They say she’s a Scorpio.”
Mouse laughed. “You didn’t fix me up, did you?” Mouse had been known to opine that Scorpio women were the hottest in the known universe. McClennon could not get him to elucidate the workings of a geocentric astrology transferred to Outworlds skies.
“Not exactly. I asked a few questions. I figured the answers might pique your interest.”
“I’m interested. That little bomb is ready to go off. You can tell just by the way she moves. Blow in her ear and you’re liable to start something five guys couldn’t handle. But I’m also not interested. If you know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t. You’ve been celibate for a month. I thought I’d see entropy shift into reverse first.”
“I got things to work out, Tommy. Can we drop it?”
“If you want. We’re heading for Stars’ End.” As if to back him up, the ship’s hyper alarm sounded
“I heard they finally gave in.”
“Now all we’ve got to do is impress Gruber.”
“The Old Man will find a way.”
“He always does, doesn’t he?”
“Tommy, what do you think our chances are?”
“What?”
“Our chances of coming through this thing with these centerward creatures.”
“We’ll never know, Mouse. It’s going to go on for a long time. Our great-grandchildren’s great-grandchildren are going to be fighting this war. And it’s a sad thing.”
“Sad? How so?”
“It may destroy us. As a race. I don’t mean destroy like wipe us out. I mean put an end to what makes us what we are. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. You know how I get.”
“You think too much.” Mouse smiled.
“The human race is crazy, see. No two of us are alike. And when we form up in mobs, no two mobs are alike. We’re always flying off in a skillion different directions. Everybody doing their own thing. Every culture, too. And that’s a survival trait, I think. There’s almost a Darwinian thing with cultures. Some die out, and others come to life. There’re always some on the way out and some on the way in. The thing is, there’re always a lot of different ones around. When one goes down, there’s always another there to take its place.”
“I’m not following you,” Mouse said in a slightly amused tone. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Look, this centerward race… To fight it we’re going to have to pull together. Generation after generation. Like an anthill. We’re going to turn into a warfare race. Our whole focus will be the struggle. Kids will be born to a system that will turn them into the best soldiers possible. If they’re survivors, they’ll work their way up and get old in harness. They’ll have kids of their own, who will follow in their footsteps. After a few generations nobody will know there’s any other way of life. And then, in a way, we’ll be just like the things we’re fighting. The diversity will be gone. And we’ll be trapped in a dead end. Because every culture is a dead end eventually. I mean, what does a warfare society do after it polishes off its last enemy? Turn on itself?”
Mouse looked at him askance. “You do worry yourself about some strange things, my friend.”
“I think it’s a valid concern. I think we should start taking the long view now and try to retain all the diversity we can.”
“So write a report suggesting a study.”
“I think I will.”
“It won’t matter much when they wipe us out, Tommy. And from where I sit, that looks inevitable. All we can do is delay it. That’ll be like trying to keep the river from getting to the sea by bailing it with a te
acup.”
“Maybe. Maybe.”
The ship shuddered. It seemed to twist away around them. Marathon was on her way to Stars’ End, that legendary, inviolable, virgin goddess of a fortress world that had intrigued a half dozen races for countless centuries.
Twenty-Two: 3050 AD
The Main Sequence
Marathon dropped hyper ten days after departing Three Sky. She cruised norm thirty hours before being joined by the heavy squadrons from The Broken Wings. Beckhart was afraid Gruber might still need convincing.
“There’re a hundred harvestships there,” Amy protested. “You know how big they are, Moyshe. Plus all the service ships. What makes anybody think a few dozen Navy ships could whip them? The whole Sangaree raidfleet couldn’t.”
“I hope you don’t have to find out.”
Mouse explained, “These ships were built for that kind of thing, Amy. All they can do is destroy. Especially the Empire Class. Other ships. Orbital fortresses. Cities on the ground. They were built to chew them up. What you Starfishers have is a bunch of ships built to do other things. Their guns were hung on them as an afterthought. Your harvestships were put together in jumbles, just growing, never designed for any special purpose.”
“I still think you’re all overconfident.”
Both Thomas and Mouse shrugged. McClennon said, “You could be right. We’re supposed to believe we’re invincible.” He glanced at Mouse. “Maybe that’s why this centerward thing is so oppressive. It shakes our faith.”
They were in Marathon’s wardroom. Most of the science team were there too. The countdown to hyper drop had declined past the ten-minute mark. People with no duty assignment had gathered to look at what McClennon called a thirty-first-century war god.
An untouchable world. A dead metal machine voice that shrieked against the big night, threatening anyone who came near. Stars’ End. The arsenal of yesterday, more securely defended than the virtue of any medieval virgin.
“You don’t need to worry,” McClennon said. “If there were any chance of trouble, we wouldn’t be sitting around here. We’d be on battle stations.”
“The Weapons people aren’t on alert,” Mouse said. He was staring at a small blonde woman wearing Weapons insignia over her Lieutenant’s stripes. “Watch how she moves, Tommy.”
McClennon smiled. “I think he’s coming around. The tomcat is coming through.”
Mouse reddened slightly.
“Jesus,” McClennon said softly. “You? Embarrassed?”
“I don’t know, Tommy. It seems like I’ve changed a little. I don’t understand myself.”
“One minute to hyper drop,” a remote voice announced. It drowned in the chatter of the wardroom.
Beckhart and the chiefs of the science team stalked in and took seats near the holo globe that had been set up at the compartment’s center.
“Looks smug, don’t he?” McClennon said.
The wardroom fell silent. Marathon dropped hyper. In moments a featureless ball filled the holo globe. Surrounding details appeared as the ship’s sensors picked them up. First came the escort vessels, then the harvestfleets, then vistas of lifeless wreckage left by the fighting with Sangaree and McGraws. The planet, though, showed no changes.
McClennon had seen it before. He was not amazed. The builder race had removed any topography Stars’ End may have had. It was a world machined smooth.
“Like a big-ass cue ball,” Mouse murmured.
“It doesn’t look so friendly when it opens up,” Thomas said. He shuddered, remembering. “It gets what looks like a sudden case of acne…”
Someone sat down beside him. At the same moment he saw a Communications messenger whisper to Beckhart and pass a flimsy. What was it? he wondered.
“Commander McClennon?”
He glanced to the side and found himself face to face with the little blonde Weapons officer. “Yes,” he gulped, taken aback.
“Hi, I’m Tanni Lowenthal. Weapons.” She wriggled her diminutive derriere a centimeter closer.
Mouse chuckled. Thomas turned. Storm’s attention seemed inalterably fixed on the holo globe. As was Amy’s, though color was climbing her throat.
“What can I do for you?” Thomas asked.
“Nothing. I just wanted to meet you. Someone said you were you, so I thought I would introduce myself. You’re famous, you know.” She laid a hand on his. It was small and hot and felt strong. He nearly jerked away.
Mouse made a small sound again.
“It’s really strange, isn’t it?” the woman asked. “Stars’ End, I mean.”
“Very. Especially when it’s in a bad mood.”
“Oh. That’s right. You were here before, weren’t you? When you were with the Starfishers.”
The conversation lasted only a few minutes. The woman abruptly said, “That’s my cue. Off to the salt mines. Bye.” She squeezed his hand and looked him directly in the eye for a second.
“Bye.” Baffled, he looked around to see what had happened during his distraction.
Beckhart, apparently, had announced something. He had missed it. “What was that, Mouse?”
“The Seiners have it open already. We can send our people down right away.” Storm was fighting laughter. He nodded toward Tanni’s departing figure. “That’s what you get for asking questions, Tommy. The word gets back.”
Amy glared into the globe. Her jaw was tight. Her face was red. Smoke seemed about to pour from her ears. “How did that half-witted sex machine ever earn a commission?” she demanded.
Still grinning, Mouse said, “She’s probably quite competent at what she does.”
“I don’t doubt it a bit. She looks the type.”
Mouse made a little wave signal to tell McClennon to make himself scarce. Amy was ready for a scene. A scene she had no right to make, inasmuch as she had declared her relationship with McClennon void.
McClennon rose and moved nearer the Admiral. When he had a chance, he asked, “Will I be able to go down? Just to poke around?”
Beckhart looked thoughtful. “I suppose. It seems safe. They’ve been down for a week and nothing’s happened. But wait till the science people are all down. Ask Amy to see me in my office later, will you? I think I’ve got a liaison job for her.”
“Yes sir.” He wandered back to Mouse and Amy. Storm had calmed her down. He was still grinning.
“Tommy, I think I’ll take you up on that game you’ve been talking about. You see a table?” The new was wearing off. Ship’s crew were drifting out.
“Over there. Amy, the boss wants you to come to his office when you get a chance.”
He and Mouse pushed through the crowd and seized a pair of table seats. Mouse produced his portable chess set.
“I wish you’d wipe that smirk off your face. Makes you look like an idiot.”
“I can’t help it, Tommy. It’s really funny, the way she zeroed in. Isn’t she something?”
“No doubt about that. I’m wondering what.”
“I couldn’t decide if you were going to attack her right there or have a stroke. You can find out what, you know. She told you who she was and where to find her. Now it’s your move.”
Science team people began descending to the planet next working day. The afternoon of the same day witnessed the arrival aboard of a company of stone-faced Seiner dignitaries. Mouse and McClennon were assigned to make them welcome. Amy turned out to help.
Mouse asked, “What’s that you’re wearing?”
“My dress uniform.”
“What dress uniform?”
“My police uniform. Your Admiral had it flown over during the night.”
McClennon observed, “I didn’t know you had one. I’ve known you a year and a half and never saw you wear it.”
“That’s where we went wrong, Moyshe. We spent all that time hiding.”
He expected a difficult, delicate afternoon. He did not argue. “You may be right.” He sca
nned a list on a clipboard. “How many of these people do you know?”
She scanned it too. “Only a few, by reputation. Gruber. Payne. They’re all Fleet and Ship’s Commanders.”
Over a hundred names were on the list. “Mouse, we can’t give them all honors.” He glanced at the sideboys waiting to pipe the visitors aboard.
“No shit. It’d be tomorrow before we finished.”
Amy had seen enough of the back and forth of senior Navy officers to know what they were talking about. “Don’t bother,” she suggested. “We don’t do that kind of thing. They wouldn’t know what it was. Just be polite.”
Mouse went to talk it over with the chief petty officer in charge of the sideboys. McClennon stood with Amy, studying his list in order to avoid eye contact.
“You look good in that uniform,” she said softly. “All those medals…”
“Beckhart likes to hand them out.”
“You’ll get another for this business?”
“Probably.”
“Moyshe… Something I should tell you. When I said we were hiding from each other… I was hiding from you. And fooling myself. The reason I was so eager to throw a net on you…”
He glanced at her. She was showing a lot of color. “Yes?”
“It’s embarrassing. I don’t like myself very much when I think about it.”
“Well? I don’t like the things I’ve done, either.”
“I was the Ship’s Commander’s special agent. I was supposed to keep an eye on you and report to him. Because he wanted to make you into the head of a Starfisher secret service. That meant you were going to be important. I wasn’t important. I wasn’t ever going to be. The only way I could have gone any higher was if Jarl died or left Danion.”
McClennon saw what she was trying to say. “It’s all right. I understand. And now I know why you did so many things I thought were strange.”
“Moyshe…”
“Forget it. We’ve got pain enough. Don’t drag up any old stuff.”
A red light came on over the lock housing. The ship-wide address system announced the arrival of the visitors’ shuttle. It admonished all hands to remain courteous and helpful in every circumstance. The lock cycled. A great burly bear of a man stepped inside. He looked around as if expecting to be assaulted by the legions of the damned.
