The sky screamed light, beneath them. The Sun, its atoms ceaselessly
riven and then reborn, shrieked raving energy, magnetism, electricity,
light, radiant heat, a rage across the heavens, a cosmic storm flinging
up wild plumes and spindrift of violet calcium, of yellow sodium, of
blue and red and purple.
Over it, as over a limitless fiery ocean, hung the shoal of silver
ships. Tossed and twitched by storms of radiation, wrenched by the
mighty claws of the titan magnetic field, scorched by the blaze of the
star, they fought to hold position. Their formation wavered, sagged,
re-formed and wavered again, and still they held together.
On the bridge of the _Starsong_, clutching a stanchion as the deck
heeled and shuddered under him, Kirk stood with Garstang watching the
screens.
"Not a sign!" said Garstang in his ear. "And we can't sit up here
forever!"
The rim of the Asteroid Belt showed on one screen, a jagged wheeling
of rock fragments, dust and pebbles and little naked worlds, black
on their shadow-sides flashing like heliographs where they caught
the light. Beyond them was space, very deep, very dark, very empty,
looking toward Orion and his pendant sword.
In that deep emptiness out there, five ships moved slowly. Earth ships,
behaving like a normal patrol. The remainder of Earth's fleet was
hidden among the asteroids. Even the searching rays that fed the screen
could not see them.
Suddenly Garstang caught Kirk's shoulder. "There!" he said. He leaned
forward and pointed his blunt forefinger at the screen.
Out of the depths toward the star Saiph came a swarm of tiny flecks
that might have been nothing more than bits of cosmic drift, except
that they moved together and very fast. They swept in toward the Solar
System with a gathering rush, growing, picking up the sunlight on their
polished sides. Two full squadrons of Solleremos' fleet, on planetary
approach.
The five Earth ships out there wheeled in perfect formation and went on
out to meet them.
Kirk's mouth was dry. Runnels of sweat crept down his temples, down his
body. The palms of his hands were clammy.
"Screen's gone again," he said, and swore.
The screens blazed useless white, even the powerful rays that served
them wrenched and cut by an outburst of solar electricity. Then they
cleared again.
The Earth ships had not gone far out. Suddenly they wheeled again,
abandoning formation now. Spurts of light came from their launching
tubes in quick rotation, each ship firing as she bore on the target.
Then they cracked on speed and ran for the Belt.
One of the Orionid cruisers burst into a great flame and was gone.
Garstang shouted, and as though at a signal the screen went out again.
Kirk ran his uniform sleeve over his face, and kept still. There were
so few of the Earth ships, and so many of the others, something more
than double the strength of his own squadron. Far below, Earth lay
naked, stripped, utterly without defense. Kirk thought of Lyllin, and
the Vinson house with the dusty road in front of it. He thought of the
woods and the meadow where they had fought in the night, and curiously
enough he thought of the cat. Insolent little beast....
He waited for the screen to clear, and watched.
A number of Orion ships detached themselves from the main fleet and
raced after the Earth ships. They were much faster. The long aim of
Solleremos was reaching swiftly now, and one of the Earth cruisers
winked out with a brave, brief burst of flame. The other four reached
the Belt.
The Orionids plunged in after them.
"Now," whispered Garstang. "Now, now--"
* * * * *
The eight Orionid cruisers, apparently detailed to mop up this patrol,
sped down a deceptively open "lead" through the asteroid drift. The
scanner beams swung to a better angle to follow them, and now the
screen showed a closer view of that stony wilderness. The Earth ships
had vanished. The lead pinched out in a cul-de-sac of wildly gyrating
rocks. The Orion cruisers did a fast-about, practically on each others'
heels, but before they were finished the four Earth ships and half a
dozen others appeared from nowhere, all around them.
"Hit them," muttered Garstang. "Oh, hell, get onto it and _hit_ them!"
They hit them. There was a quick holocaust of light-bursts and the
Orionid cruisers in there were gone.
"That hurt them," said Garstang. "They're hooked--"
He turned and looked at Kirk. Kirk lifted his hand, his body bent
slightly forward, his eyes intent upon the screen.
Out there in the Asteroid Belt, the trap was sprung. And now the
Orionids knew they had the whole Earth fleet, such as it was, to deal
with--a force too small to stop them, but too formidable to leave on
their flank and rear. The squadrons altered course, curving in a long
bow-shaped line toward the Earth ships that hovered, in apparent doubt,
above the fringes of the drift.
Kirk brought his hand down in a slashing gesture. "_Now!_"
The Fifth Lyra swooped out of the sun.
Now.
Now is the moment, the one right time, there will not be another.
Either you make it or you don't. Outnumbered, outmanned, and outgunned
the element of surprise is all you've got.
The Sun falls behind, the edge of the Belt shifts and tilts and swings
as you cut the plane of the ecliptic. Out of the furnace into the fire,
at full drive.
The long line of the Orion ships is very beautiful, strung against the
glittering emptiness of space.
The _Starsong_ groans and quivers like a living thing. You can hear the
beating of her heart, the pounding throb of power pushed to the limit,
and beyond. Garstang, in the captain's place, has a face of iron, dark
and still. Sweat shines on the edges of it. The men are quiet.
The Commander is afraid.
Ships, lives, men, a planet. Who would say _Now!_ and not be afraid?
The Orion fleet springs at the viewports. The ships grow large, the
intervals between them widen out. The _Starsong_ flies at the point
of a wedge shaped like an axe-blade. Behind her, on either side, the
squadron follows in close formation.
In a tight, flat voice, the Commander says, "Prepare to engage."
The Fifth Lyra, the falling wedge, the axe-blade, hits the line of
cruisers from above and cuts it in two.
Instantly the close-held wings fan out, driving the severed sections
apart, opening the gap so wide it can never be closed again. Shells
burst, little blinding suns, little fountains of hellfire, racking the
ships, burning them, destroying them. But the wings sweep on. Part of
the Orionid line is rolled up and driven into the drift of the Belt,
where the Earth ships strike and strike again, and the proud cruisers
with the polished sides become wreck and flotsam to join the cosmic
debris in its endless journey around the Sun. The other section is
driven outward into space, back toward Orion.
And the _Starsong_ hunts down the _Betelgeuse_, flagship of Solleremos'
fleet.
Kirk says, If we can get her, I think the rest will all go home. Fire
One--
_Fire Two._
The _Betelgeuse_ answers, and space is drowned in a flaming cloud. The
_Starsong_ staggers and men are thrown down on the reeling iron deck.
A red light flares on the telltale board. Somewhere deep in the ship's
vitals the bulkhead doors slam shut, sealing off. The _Starsong_ has a
hole in her and some men have died, but she's still alive, still strong
to move and strike.
_Fire Three._
The _Betelgeuse_ dives clear and her own tubes spout hellfire, a double
flowering of death and destruction. The _Starsong_ wrenches away,
desperate, shaken, and once more the ports are filled with fire and a
red light glimmers on the board.
_Fire Four._
The _Betelgeuse_ quivers strangely. With a dreamlike slowness two
pieces of her appear out of the brilliance and the flame, bow and stern
at odds with each other, going different ways. Then there is a white
blinding flash, and she is gone.
And the Orion fleet, leaderless, surprised, mauled and clawed and
wounded, is pulling out. One by one, in pairs, in little groups, they
turn tail and streak for open space, and are gone.
The Fifth Lyra and the ships of Earth follow them, but not far. Space
is empty, and in the ships there is a great silence, while the men
breathe softly and look at nothing and feel that they are still alive.
There is no light now but the light of the Sun and the distant stars.
The Belt wheels on its way, and bits of riven metal that once were
ships fall slowly toward it.
* * * * *
After a time, on the bridge of the _Starsong_, Garstang turned to Kirk.
His face was sweating and wild, and his eyes had a dazed look. He said,
"What now?"
"We wait and see what," said Kirk. "Maybe nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Solleremos has missed his spring. I've an idea he may prefer to make
like it all never happened, if we don't give any official news of this
fight. I think Charteris will see it that way."
Charteris did. The battle couldn't be kept secret really, but Earth's
authorities pretended that it had never happened. There was no profit
in starting a full-fledged war, and there wouldn't be one if Solleremos
had learned his lesson.
He had learned it, it seemed. From Orion there was a long silence.
Then came a routine congratulation on the Commemoration. The Governor
of Orion Sector, it appeared, was happy for Earth.
"The so-and-so must be raging, but he won't try _that_ again," said
Kirk.
To him, and to the Squadron, had come another message, from Ferdias.
Well done. That was all. But from Ferdias, it was plenty.
And the Commemoration blazed, on Earth. The lights, the bands, the
speeches, and then the fly-over--the battered mighty giants of the
Fifth roaring across the sky with the even more battered Earth cruisers
leading the way.
From its museum they had brought the first of all the space-ships, and
everyone held their breath and kept fingers crossed while it lurched,
coughed and wobbled up into the sky, and labored bravely around the
planet, and by some miracle came down safe again.
And the great day was over.
Garstang, looking strange now in the black uniform of Earth, spoke
earnestly to Kirk the day before the Fifth was to leave.
"You know you're pretty much a hero here now, Kirk. You'll be retiring
from service in not too many years. Why don't you come back to Earth to
live?"
"Why does everyone say, come _back_ to Earth," Kirk complained. "Just
because I had ancestors here I'm no Earthman!"
He added, "And whatever you do, don't mention that bright idea to
Lyllin! I'm going up to Orville now to get her."
Garstang only smiled at him, a queer sort of smile.
Kirk drove up through the quiet roads, the green countryside. The
golden sun was soft upon his face. The breeze held a faint, smoky tang
of oncoming fall. Earth's fall--he'd heard about that.
Peaceful, beautiful--but it was no world for him! Come "back" to Earth,
indeed! Why, he'd lived on many worlds and none of them had ever got
that kind of sentimental hold on him. Though he could understand why
people felt that way about this old place--
Hell, he must be getting sentimental himself! He put a curb on such
thoughts and drove on. And when he drove into Orville, there were
frantic handwavings from every street-corner, his name was shouted by
the kids along the sidewalks.
* * * * *
Vinson came running out of his house to meet him when he pulled up.
"Your wife's over at your house," Vinson explained. He shook hands. He
was vastly excited and proud. "You know what--the village is going to
put up a plaque. With all our names on it. Just saying, 'They fought
the Battle of Orville'. Nothing else, account of diplomacy."
Kirk said, "It deserves the plaque, that fight. If you chaps hadn't
turned out that night--"
"Hear you're leaving tomorrow," Vinson went on. "Thought I'd keep your
old place going better, while you're gone, by working the fields. I'll
keep an eye on your house, too."
Kirk said, "What makes you think I'm coming back?"
Vinson said, puzzledly, "Why, you are, aren't you? I mean--you're an
Orville boy--this is your real home--"
Kirk suppressed the impatient words he'd been about to utter. No use
upsetting a nice guy. He said, "Oh, sure, I'll be back--"
He drove on to the old house. Lyllin sat on the porch. He saw, to his
surprise, that on her lap there cozily reclined a large black cat.
Lyllin smiled. "I think I've been accepted. By the people here--and by
Tom."
Tom yawned and looked with insolent green eyes at Kirk. "His sides are
bulging," Kirk said. "You've been bribing the beggar with food."
She laughed. "I don't know how he'll like space-travel. But we'll be
bringing him back some day."
"Will we?" said Kirk.
She looked up at him. "Joe Garstang was talking to me. You _will_ be
retiring from active service in a few years. And I like it here now,
Kirk. I really do."
He said, loudly, "Why in the world must everyone assume that I _want_
to come back to this place? Will you tell me that?"
"Don't you?"
He started to answer, then didn't. He looked out from the porch of the
old house, at the sunset light sweeping the green valley, at the old
trees beyond the fields, at everything that had somehow got a queer
grip on him without his knowing it.
He said, "Well, I don't know. Maybe."
Lyllin smiled.
That night the Fifth went skyward in a great thundering that rolled
louder and louder across the cities and the countryside. Great black
bulks flying up fast across the glittering sky, roaring, bellowing,
shouting a gigantic farewell down to the watching millions as they
rushed out toward the stars.