The Gripping Hand

by Larry Niven

  Glenda Ruth made crooning noises. The medical-panel lights glowed, but no sign of heart or brain activity. Dead panel, or- Glenda Ruth said, "Kevin, Cynthia, my God, stop! He's dead!" You never know- Kevin bit it back. She would know.

  They were alongside Atropos now. Townsend matched velocities. "Stay alongside," Renner said. "Blaine."

  "Sir?"

  "I'm changing the plan. If I'm going to use the Flinger at all, it'll have to be before we build up too much heat, so we'll stay alongside you for the first phase of the battle."

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Keep relaying data."

  "Aye, aye, sir. Data relay set," Blaine said.

  "Got it. Any luck contacting the Fleet?"

  "Not yet. Any further orders, Sir?"

  Renner looked back into the cabin once more. "Yes. I'm canceling the instructions on avoiding high gees. Use any acceleration the tactical situation demands."

  They saw through the eyes of Atropos. A black dot popped into place, then another, then two more. A green thread from Atropos to one of the intruders. The intruder's Field flared, expanded.

  "It's working," Renner said. "The Khanate ships have an expanding Langston Field, which is great for most battles, but in here when it expands, it picks up even more heat."

  "Could they have done what you did?" Joyce asked. "Got their Engineers to rebuild it?"

  "Omar?"

  "No data. I would not have thought of it."

  More black dots. "Freddy, stand by the finger. We'll aim for the center of the cluster."

  "Right."

  The black dot expanded, ran through colors, and vanished. Atropos's green thread moved to another ship.

  "Atropos."

  "Aye, aye, Commodore."

  Not Blaine. "Tell your skipper we'll commence firing when we have twenty-five targets. Watch the data link for exact time."

  "You will fire when you have twenty-five, that's two five, targets. Observe data link for exact time. Aye, aye, sir."

  Joyce's camera was running. Why not? What could it matter now if everyone learned that Sinbad carried nuclear weapons?"

  "We've got another edge," Renner said. Imperial Autonetics has developed a ship's coating that only becomes a superconductor at forty-four hundred Kelvin. That's two hundred degrees cooler than what it takes to soften the hull. I can run a superconducting wire into Sinbad's water tank and then vent the steam.

  "In short, we can stay alive a long time."

  "We may need to," Freddy said. "Twenty-four."

  "Load."

  "Erecting the Flinger. Loading. Wow, it's warm out there. Fire. Retracting the Flinger into the Field."

  A timer began on Renner's console. Twenty-nine seconds. Twenty-eight...

  A bright star within the star. Twenty black dots expanded, stretched, added their stored heat to the white glare. Green lines converged on another. It flashed and was gone.

  And thirty more ships appeared.

  "Stand by Flinger," Renner said.

  Scattered across a brilliant orange sky were sixty to seventy colored balloons. The eye couldn't tell their distance: sizes varied too widely. Most were red. Fewer were orange, and those faded into invisibility until they grew hotter. A handful were green and blue, inflating as their temperature rose, until one or another made a brief nova. It was a kindergarten astronomy class, the stars colorcoded to their places on the Hertzsprung-Russel diagram.

  "Three. Two. One. Bingo," Freddy droned.

  Another flare. Red and yellow bubbles inflated suddenly, green, blue, flashflashflash.

  "How many is that?" Joyce demanded.

  "Counting what Atropos bagged, over a hundred."

  "Should we be cheering? Sorry, Glenda Ruth."

  "It's all right. They're only Warriors. To the Moties they're valuable property, but-"

  "Retracted. Seven warheads left," Freddy said. "Timing's about right, we'll be too hot to use it pretty soon. Captain, I have to say this is easier than I thought it would be."

  "Too easy," Renner said. "Atropos, let me speak with Captain Rawlins, please."

  "Rawlins here."

  "This was Group A, agreed?"

  "Yes."

  "I think it's time to get the hell out of here before the B group arrives."

  "Agreed. What course?"

  "Out of the star. Head for the Jump point to New Cal. I'll lead. And keep calling for the Fleet."

  "To New Cal. Damn right we'll keep calling! Acceleration?"

  "Two gee's?"

  "Good enough."

  "Here they come!" The Atropos talker was shouting. "Hundreds of them!" Then in a calmer voice, "Sinbad, this is Atropos. Enemy fleet coming through the Alderson point. The count is three hundred ships. We are firing torpedoes."

  "Maybe this would be a good time to use our last loads," Townsend said.

  "I hate to fire ourselves dry, but, yeah." Renner touched keys.

  "Atropos, designate us a target group, please."

  The screen jumped, and a ring appeared indicating a cluster of ships moving together at high velocity away from the Jump point. Other ships were appearing every second.

  "Hail Mary," Freddy Townsend said. "Okay, I've got a solution...erecting... on the way. Eighty-nine seconds." The timers began the countdown. "Of course you know we can't fight all those ships."

  "All true," Renner said. "Of course we don't have to."

  "They're not going to give up," Joyce said. "Omar, Victoria, can't they see they've been defeated? It won't do them any good to destroy us now!"

  "They have their orders," Glenda Ruth said. "Victoria, do Warriors ever question a Master's orders? Joyce is right, this can't do them any good, not now. Whatever they do to us, they get back to the Mote overheated and out of fuel, and the Alliance fleets will be waiting. Do they know that?"

  "They know it better than you," Victoria said.

  "And they have their orders." Glenda Ruth shuddered.

  "I think it is more than that," Omar said. "If they return, it will be the first time that Mote ships have done that. Many neutrals will join them just for that reason. And if a sizable group comes over to them-"

  "Bandwagon," Joyce said. "Glenda Ruth, you agree?"

  "I guess I have to."

  "I have a new target group for you," Atropos said.

  "Engaging."

  "Rawlins here. Commodore, we're getting no answer from the Fleet, and we're going to be overwhelmed."

  "Suggestions?"

  "Run for it while we can. Pop back into the Mote system, where we have allies."

  "It's not much of a chance."

  "More than we have now," Rawlins said, "Sir."

  "Actually, it's a good plan, for you," Renner said. "It won't work for us, we don't have the acceleration, but- Yeah. You do that. Commander Rawlins, I'm ordering you to detached service. Your mission is to survive and report to any Imperial fleet."

  "Just a minute-"

  "No, we don't have any time at all. I'm staying on course. You run like hell. Rawlins, somebody's got to survive this. Our Moties analyze it this way. If the enemy gets back alive, the neutrals will join the Khanate. We can't let that happen! Rawlins, you get back into the Mote system and let everyone know the Empire is coming!"

  There was a long pause. "Aye, aye, sir. Godspeed."

  "Godspeed. Freddy, get the Flinger ready."

  "Sinbad's last stand," Freddy said. He nodded toward Bury. "I guess he deserves a Viking's funeral. Only there's no dog at his feet."

  The cameras went dark. "We've lost the link to Atropos," Joyce dictated quietly.

  "No shadow from Atropos now," Renner said. "Our field temp's going up. Stand by, you'll have to fire blind after I get a quick look."

  "I've got a tentative target group. Give me a look to be sure. Right. Launching. Retracting. Captain, I think that's it for the Flinger."

  "Agreed."

  "I hate being blind!" Joyce shouted.

  "Who doesn't?" Freddy said.

  "In the da
ys before superconductors, we'd be getting burn throughs now," Renner said. "I recall the battle off New Chicago. Captain Blaine-Commander then-got his arm half-burned off. Now we sit here comfortable."

  "Whoopee. How long do we have?" Glenda Ruth asked.

  "Hour anyway," Renner said.

  "The Engineers are rebuilding cameras," Victoria said. "And I am informed there is a new antenna ready that might be able to communicate with your other ship."

  "Bless you," Renner said. "Antenna, Freddy. I don't much like blind either."

  "Identify yourself."

  "What the hell? God damn! Imperial Fleet, this is Imperial auxiliary destroyer Sinbad, Commodore Kevin Renner commanding."

  A short delay, then the regular communications screen lit. "Imperial Fleet, this is INSS Atropos, William Hiram Rawlins. We are part of the task force Agamemnon, detached to duty with Commodore Renner."

  "Are there other Imperial ships with you?"

  "None. Atropos and Sinbad," Renner shouted. "Get us a data link and I'll prove who we are."

  "I may have a better way. Put Lieutenant Blaine on."

  "Atropos here. Here's Blaine. Admiral, if you're going to help us, you better be damn quick about it! We're in trouble."

  "We can see that. Blaine, who am I?"

  "Captain Damon Collins," Blaine's voice answered quickly.

  "Right. Blaine, tell me something a Motie wouldn't know."

  "Poker. That first game. I know how you beat me, Captain."

  "Remind me."

  Renner made sure the mike was off. "I hope it's not a long story."

  But Blaine was talking fast. "I'd never played Big Squeeze before. High-low, six cards plus a replacement. We had our six. I was showing two little pair up, and two down cards. You had three hearts and a something, club six maybe-"

  "It's coming back."

  "-nothing bigger than a nine I threw a down card. You threw the nine of hearts. Pulled the jack of hearts. We declared, both high. You had the flush."

  "You swore you'd never figure out how I did that."

  "I worked it out after the next game. What happened was, you already had your flush, but you had a shot at low hand, too. I was betting like I had a full house. You believed me. You threw your flush away and got it back with your low hand ruined. ‘Rape my lizard,' you said to yourself-"

  "And beat you for the very last time."

  "Fyunch(click)."

  "Enough," another voice said. "Is it Blaine?"

  "Definitely, Admiral."

  "Sinbad and Atropos. Converge on the Flag. We're sending escorts. All squadrons, engage enemy closely."

  Epilogue Endgame

  To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to labour.

  Robert Louis Stevenson

  Inner Base Six had lost 80 percent of its mass. Its skin was wrinkled and folded. Despite the Engineers' busy maintenance, pipes and lines were bent in curves and loops, and domes edged against each other. The sky was clotted with spacecraft waiting to be refueled.

  From the stretched-taffy look of the ice around the Mosque, it must have been twisted almost horizontal, then later pulled back to true. No damage showed. If anything, it had been improved.

  The tremendous space of the Great Hall now sprouted semicircular balconies at every level. Men and Moties clustered on the balconies in groups of three or ten, sometimes shouting or even jump/flying from balcony to balcony. Diplomacy moved at a breakneck pace here, slowing down at times to accommodate human minds.

  What Joyce was doing wouldn't have worked in the older Mosque; wouldn't have worked without the gyrostabilized camera either.

  In the diminished gravity Joyce Mei-Ling Trujillo was leaping from balcony to balcony stopping to swing the camera at Nabil and a handful of Moties, again with Glenda Ruth and her brother to do a short interview, then leaping on. She looked like some lovely goddess moving from cloud to cloud, gradually approaching earth.

  She reached the floor flushed with the exercise, started to say something to Kevin, then swung toward the great monitor screen.

  The great blue-and-white sphere filled most of the view. Cloud patterns streamed sluggishly across continents whose borders were marked all in circles. "That's Mote Prime! Isn't it, Kevin? I can see the craters. I came to see Mote Prime, and we've been here seven bloody months without coming anywhere near it!"

  He put a hand out to steady her in the minuscule gravity. "You won't get any closer this trip. The good news is, they still don't seem to have any kind of access to space. That footage was taken from a Medina ship skimming just above the clouds, pole to pole, and nobody tried to shoot back."

  "I would have loved to see the Zoo."

  "Probably gone by now. Things don't last among Moties."

  Joyce and camera faced him. "So it's a blockade again, but with Moties in charge."

  "Subject to approval from home."

  "Of course." Joyce switched off the camera. "Off the record? You don't have any doubts, do you, Kevin?"

  "Plenty. How do we use the worm here? We could pick a faction on Mote Prime-maybe King Peter's family survived-and distribute it. Or not. Or not yet. The Crazy Eddie Worm is still experimental. Say..."

  "What?"

  "Bear with me a second, Joyce. Victor! Dammit, that worm's done it. Mediators really do all look alike now. Victor? All just out of adolescence."

  The Mediator who had been the Tartars' Victoria bounded toward them in a low arc. "Kevin?"

  "Yeah. Victor, sooner or later you'll be in contact with Mote Prime. We want certain bodies returned to us for proper burial. Three human males, Midshipmen Potter, Staley, Whitbread. They may have been dissected, God knows what, but please retrieve them at your earliest convenience."

  "It will be done. If there is any successor to the group that held them. Things change rapidly there."

  "Some don't. Try."

  "Yes. Anything else?"

  "Yeah. Joyce, guess what the Bandit Group was guarding?"

  "Some weapons cache that was too far away to use," Joyce said promptly.

  "No. It was the Khanate's main base, including all their wealth. They offered it all as bribes to their allies, and the allies have turned it all over to Medina. Victor, did your people find any surprises?"

  "Not to us. We'll make holos, Kevin. Their Engineers are ingenious; you'll see some interesting innovations in the hardware."

  Joyce considered the nuances. She turned the camera on Victor.

  "Then it's over? The Khanate didn't just surrender, they meant it."

  Kevin caught Glenda Ruth Blaine's semaphore wave, halfway up the Great Hall's curved roof, and her all-too-knowing smile. Kevin grinned and waved back. No hiding anything. Dammit, Joyce had caught it, too.

  "We control all of what was Khanate wealth," Victor answered. "The families have returned from hiding at Bury's Star, and all of them now carry the worm. I see no way in which they could harm us or you, ever again. Their line is at an end, unless we choose differently; would not that satisfy Horace Bury's anger?"

  Joyce answered carefully. "As much as I came to know Bury, I think he had no anger left for Moties. This was his last corporate war. I believe he enjoyed it very much."

  The Motie smiled and moved on. Kevin felt his eyes begin to sting. He said, "That was wonderfully well said."

  "Thank you. I actually miss him, Kevin. Not like you, I expect. Almost thirty years."

  "Yeah. But he did go out a winner, and .... can't seem to decide how to feel about finally being free of the old man's power games, Life is about to turn simpler."

  "What was the smirk about?"

  "Smirk?" Joyce's black eyebrows came together and he said, "It's a secret. There are still secrets. Dammit, Joyce, is every woman going to go around reading my mind for the rest of my life?"

  "This isn't any diplomatic secret, Kevin. And it isn't a scandal because you'd never be stupid enough ... you wouldn't."

  "Joyce, there is a secret you sh
ould not hear. Just like last time, when Eudoxus read your feet."

  She swallowed her first answer. "Maybe, but I have to have it."

  "Okay." Kevin Renner began to talk.

  Inner Base Six had been following the Empire ships. Renner took his own sweet time returning thence, sending the Blockade Fleet ships on ahead, thrusting at half a gee while he and his people healed. It still took him only eight days.

  On the afternoon of the sixth day he found Glenda Ruth perched on the arm of his chair with a tray in her hand. He settled in with his lunch and said, "Talk."

  She didn't seem able to.

  "Freddy," he said. "Aristocrat. Just a touch lazy by my admittedly rigorous standards. Didn't want to join the Navy. He'll have precious little choice now. They'll hit him with major medals and a Reserve commission."

  "Good motivation," Glenda Ruth said. "Put him in charge of avoiding a war so he won't have to work."

  "He tenses up when you're around. What's he afraid of? You're too sensitive?"

  "Squeamish," she said. "Whoever gets hurt around me, child or adult or cat or Motie, I feel it. But I had as much to do with saving us as he did. More. Kevin-"

  "Glenda Ruth."

  "Oh. Sorry." She shifted to the navigator's empty chair and slumped a little and smiled at him.

  "I was going to say... oh." That wide, her smile looked a little vacuous. "You got it."

  Glenda Ruth said, "Please turn down the sex appeal because it makes me uncomfortable."

  "Yeah. And I don't doubt you could turn it up again if I need to remember what gender I am."

  "Maybe not. Kevin, you've stopped thinking of me as not quite human."

  "Don't test that out, okay?" Unless you mean it ....o, dammit, seducing Lord Blaine's daughter is one of the many things I'm going to skip in this life. "Sure you're human. You may be a great many humans. Every child does a lot of role-playing. You and Chris would do it better than most. What kind of role have you been playing with Freddy?"

  "I haven't been playing! Uncle Kevin, I was running a game on the Tartars, for our lives and the Empire. There wasn't room to play that many games. He's seen what I am. I'm squeamish. When it all gets too much for me, I hide."

  "You could get him back. He can't drop you, he's got obligations, and if you work on him for an hour, he'll never want to again. So what's really bothering you, Glenda Ruth? Turn it off!"