After a few seconds of stunned silence, the two men turned and walked
the long and lonesome way back to the _Sunward_.
* * * * *
All of the scientists aboard the _Sunward_ and most of the ship's
officers were assembled in the central meeting hall when Broussard and
Hawkins arrived. Hawkins walked directly to the central podium and
turned to face the group.
"Gentlemen," he began slowly, his features a mask of repressed emotion.
"I know that I do not have to give you any fuller explanations than you
have already received. We have been given a challenge that seems to be
insoluble. But we must face the situation, as the alien Lan Sur has
suggested, with a minimum of emotionality and with a maximum of good,
hard logic. I would welcome any comments, suggestions you might have
to offer."
There was a general shuffling of feet and clearing of throats among the
crowd. It seemed to Hawkins as if each member present was waiting for
someone else to speak first. Finally the Communications Officer broke
the silence.
"Captain, it has occurred to me that if the alien's powers are as great
as he claims, he may well be able to monitor every word any of us
speaks, even here. I think we must take that into consideration."
The crowd murmured an assent, feeling, Hawkins was sure, that it gave
them an excellent excuse for not being able to propose any solution to
the problem. "I think you are quite right," Hawkins answered. "However,
I feel that for the moment we must operate as if he couldn't monitor
us. In the meantime, the communications department must take what
precautions it can to assure us that our future conversations are held
in complete privacy." A touch of bitter defeat crept into his voice.
"And I would imagine that even if he _is_ listening right now, he'll
gain precious little in the way of useful information."
The group shuffled its feet again, embarrassed at its own impotence.
"Are there any further comments?" Hawkins asked. There seemed to be
none, until the Gunnery Officer spoke up.
"Captain," he said, a slight smile on his broad face. "I'd sort of like
to see just how much punishment the bastard can take."
Hawkins laughed, breaking the tension. "I think we all agree with you.
Suppose we put off any further discussion until after we've put the
alien through his paces. It will give us an opportunity to test his
strength--and to test our own.
"Many of you--" Hawkins indicated with a wave of his hand the officers
in the room "--are familiar with the offensive strength of this vessel.
She is one of the most powerfully armed ships that Earth has. What I
intend to do, then, is this: We'll give our friend out there just as
much hell as the _Sunward_ can dish out. But while we're doing it, I
want photographs of every attack we make, fast photos that will give
us, perhaps, an inkling of how he overcomes all of our weapons, if he
does. I think this is extremely important." He looked the crowd over.
"We'll begin the attack just as soon as all of you have indicated to me
that your departments are ready. That is all, gentlemen."
* * * * *
Half an hour later the _Sunward_ rose from her landing site and floated
gently into the atmosphere. She came to a halt about ten thousand feet
up and drifted into an optimum firing position. Every gun and camera
the ship possessed was trained on the now scarcely visible figure of
the alien almost two miles beneath her. Hawkins was on the battle
bridge, his experienced hand controlling the ship firmly, belying the
nervousness he felt.
"Gunnery all ready, Sir!" came the report.
"Fire!" shouted Hawkins a little louder than he meant to. He strained
forward in his seat to watch the scene on the screen in front of him.
The heat guns opened up first. In less than a second the area of
maximum temperature was less than two feet away from the alien's body.
A space of ground 300 yards in diameter suddenly went up in smoke at
the intensity of the rays. Slim shreds of fire licked at the edge of
the ring, and in the center all was fierce flame and smoke as the heat
actually melted the earth. For a full five minutes the guns remained
firing at maximum intensity. No organic substance known to man could
withstand such violence.
"Cease firing," Hawkins called. He leaned back slowly in his chair. It
would take a few minutes for the smoke to clear, but he knew in his
heart what they would see once it had. And even before the wind had
blown enough of the smoke away to make things visible, they saw the
figure of the alien come walking briskly out of the hellish ring of
destruction and wave his arm to them.
"God," said Hawkins quietly. After a moment he threw open a
communications switch that connected him to the Gunnery Officer. "Well,
what's next?" he asked quietly.
Next came a huge ball of electricity that spat sparks as it hurtled
through space and shattered itself into a million bolts of lightning at
the very feet of the alien. The resulting burst of light was painful
to the eyes, but when vision cleared, they saw the alien again, still
standing erect and still waving.
They tried launching a dozen space torpedoes at once, filled with the
highest chemical explosives known to man. They crashed in criss-cross
fashion about the alien, ripping the very air asunder with their
fantastic devastation. They left a crater almost a mile wide, and
standing in the middle of it, still untouched, the enemy. Then the ship
bombarded the small figure below with every wavelength known to man,
still without effect.
Finally the Gunnery Officer called Hawkins on the intercom. "I'm sorry,
Captain, but we did our best. I guess there's only one thing left to
do."
"I guess you're right," Hawkins admitted reluctantly. And turning to
his helmsman he said, "Take her up."
The _Sunward_ was almost fifty miles from the alien when she unleashed
her final weapon. She had dropped tattle-tale robots behind to feed her
information both before and after the blast. And then she aimed the
mightiest atomic weapon man had created straight at Lan Sur.
The very planet shook at its detonation, so powerful was the bomb. The
fire and clouds rose miles into the sky, and the _Sunward's_ delicate
instruments indicated the presence of a radiation so intense that it
was certain an area hundreds of miles in size was completely destroyed.
It took several minutes before enough of the aftermath of the explosion
had cleared away for them to find him, but they located the alien
sitting calmly in a crater at the very center of the affected area,
obviously still unharmed.
Hawkins contemplated the situation for several minutes, and then
wearily stretched out his hand and turned on the radio. After a moment
he said simply, "All right, Lan Sur, you win. Where do you want us to
land?"
Lan Sur answered immediately. "You will place your vessel in an area
almost directly beneath your present position which I have caused to
be marked in red. Any attempt to move the vessel without my permission
will result in your immediate destruction. If, during the waiting time,
you have any further questions to ask of me, I will be available.
However, if you have not come to any conclusion by the end of that
time, I shall be forced to destroy you without further hesitation. You
have exactly twenty-two hours and nine minutes left."
* * * * *
When the ship had landed, Hawkins returned to the conference room. Most
of the executive personnel were there, although some of the scientists
were absent, ostensibly still analyzing the results of the futile
attack on the alien. Hawkins strode briskly to the podium and faced the
group.
"Gentlemen," he said, "you saw what happened. Perhaps some of you
refused to believe that the alien could enforce his demands on us--and
I'm sure that all of us hoped that this would be the case. But now we
must accept the fact that the choice we were told to make will _have_
to be made, unless we can come up with some means of destroying this
creature or of escaping his wrath.
"I want you to know that although it might well be within my province
as Captain of the _Sunward_ to decide which of the alternatives we will
take, I will not do so. What is decided here will affect all of Earth's
peoples everywhere. Neither one man nor one small group can make this
choice. Therefore, exactly one hour before the deadline, we will hold
a plebiscite. Every person aboard the _Sunward_ will have exactly one
vote, and the majority decision will hold. I will refrain from voting
and will decide the issue in the event of a tie.
"In the meantime, I want you to think. To think not only of a means of
escape from our dilemma, if this be possible, but also how you will
vote. If any of you have any ideas, or if you simply wish to talk about
something, you will find me available at any hour.
"I do not know how each of you will react to this situation. Perhaps
the alien is right. Perhaps man is far too emotional an animal to merit
more than slave status in the councils of the stars. But I hope that
our actions will prove otherwise--and that this, man's darkest hour,
will also become his finest."
Hawkins turned from the group and walked quietly from the room. He knew
that his speech had been anything but an example of clear logic devoid
of emotional context, and he had no idea why he had let himself be so
carried away. But with the inborn and well-trained sense he had of men
and situations, he knew that he could not have spoken otherwise.
The men on board the _Sunward_ faced the crisis in various fashions.
A few of the scientists worked with erratic bursts of speed to finish
up their analyses of the data they had gathered during the bombardment
of the alien. Some of the crew wrote letters home. The communications
department was swamped with personal messages to be relayed back to
Earth. The Chaplain gave up his attempt at private counseling and held
hourly open services. The routine jobs were still performed, albeit in
a perfunctory manner. But mostly the men just gathered around in small
groups and talked, usually in low voices. A few of the luckier ones got
drunk.
Captain Hawkins remained in his room, completely isolated from the rest
of the ship, for almost four hours. During that time he simply sat in
his easy chair and thought. At the beginning of the fifth hour he broke
a precedent and opened a bottle of whiskey. At the beginning of the
sixth hour he broke still another precedent and sent for Broussard.
Hawkins was neither too drunk nor too sober when the psychologist
arrived. He told the scientist to sit down and offered him a drink.
"I know it's unethical for me to take you away from the men when they
need your help more than ever before," Hawkins began slowly, choosing
to stare moodily at the table instead of directly at the man he was
talking to. "But for once I am exercising a Captain's perogatives.
"You must have realized some of the problems that face anyone in
a position of command. Usually we have to operate on pretty rigid
rules, but things always go better if it seems as though we aren't
quite as rigid as we really must be. The men under you always feel
better if they think they have some free choice about things. In any
military set-up you can't allow much of this free will at all. The best
commander is the one who decides what it is his men must do in a given
situation, and then finds some way of making the men want to do it."
Again he paused, then looked up, facing Broussard squarely.
"I have decided what the result of the balloting must be--and I want
you, as a psychologist, to help me make sure that I get that result
without anyone else being aware that we've rigged things." He got up
from the table and began nervously pacing the floor.
After a few moments he stopped and turned to face the psychologist,
both his fists clenched tightly on the back of his easy chair. He said
nothing.
After several moments of silence, Broussard cleared his throat and
asked, "And which choice have you decided it must be?"
Hawkins collapsed into the chair. Finally his mouth opened, his lips
trembled, and he said, "Slavery, of course. It's the only choice.
"You're the psychologist, perhaps you can understand the fierce pride
I'd take in knowing that the men would have the ... the _guts_ to
want to end it all instead of bowing down to that bastard out there
who holds us in the very palm of his hands." Hawkins paused in this
outburst, blinked his eyes briefly, and then continued.
"But that's just the emotion showing through. From the logical point
of view, our race must continue. If we choose slavery we'll live and
breathe and die just as we always have. We'll do all of these things on
alien planets, having forgotten the Earth we sprang from and all our
past history, as sorry as some of that has been. We'll have forgotten
who _we_ are. We will have lost ourselves."
He banged a fist down on the table. "But we _will_ exist! The
protection of the race comes first, and we've got to make sure that it
is protected, that the _Sunward_ makes the logical decision. I'll steer
things as best I can, but I'll need help."
He turned to Broussard. "I'm not a psychologist. I won't tell you how
to go about it. I don't care what you do. All I want are the results."
For a space of several seconds the two men sat without speaking. Then
Hawkins said, "And I guess that unless you have something to add,
that's all for now. Let me know what you're doing, if you have time to
tell me. But more important than that, let me know if you think you're
going to fail. We may have to rig the ballots if you do."
Broussard gave a deep sigh and rose to leave. He could understand the
torment the Captain was going through, but there was little that he
could do for the man at the moment. He was almost at the door when
Hawkins stopped him.
"Broussard!" Hawkins shouted. "What in God's name makes a man's
personality so dear to him? Why has it always been just about the last
thing that a man will give up? You're the psychologist. You must know
the answer. Even a man with a diseased mind who knows that he's sick
and wants help badly will fight back tooth and nail when you try to
change even one small part of his personality make-up. Didn't you once
tell me that? Didn't you?"
The Captain's voice grew louder and louder. "That's why therapy is so
hard, isn't it? That's why constructive education is so difficult,
isn't it? That's why politicians who appeal to existing fears and hates
and loves get elected instead of those men who try to shift public
opinion for the better.
"Oh, why in God's name are we so proud of this tiny, puny, weak,
insignificant, miserable thing inside each of us we call the real
_me_!" He picked up the whiskey bottle and hurled it with full force
against the wall. It shattered in a thousand pieces. The dark liquor
inside ran down the wall leaving long thin fingers of stain behind it.
Captain Hawkins' personal steward came rushing into the room at the
sound of the crash, and looked, horrified, at the mess on the wall.
"Oh, get out! Get out, both of you, and leave me alone!" Hawkins
shouted.
* * * * *
After they were gone, Hawkins threw himself on his bunk and buried
his face in his pillow. The mood of fierce hot anger passed rapidly,
leaving only the warm sting of shame. Although he had made the
decision to capitulate to the alien, at least at an intellectual level,
he could not really bring himself to believe that there was no means
of escape. His head ached from his emotional outburst and every effort
toward constructive thinking seemed to end in a blind alley. He had
been tossing restlessly for perhaps two hours when the Communications
Officer brought him a message from Earth that had just been received.
Hawkins reached for the message blank eagerly at first, his befuddled
mind thinking for just an instant that here were instructions from home
telling him how to meet the crisis, telling him of a means of escape,
or just taking the awful responsibility of the decision from him. But
then he remembered that communications, even when they passed through
subspace, took several days to get from Earth to here. Earth was still
unaware of the crisis on Trellis, and this message that had just been
received had begun its journey long before they were made so painfully
aware of the existence of the alien.
The radiogram was of a semi-routine nature, but one that, in normal
circumstances, would have demanded an immediate answer. "Shall we
bother replying to it?" the Communications Officer asked.
"Of course not," Hawkins said angrily. "It wouldn't be necessary, even
if we dared break radio silence to reply."
The Communications Officer's eyes opened wide in a startled fashion.
"Radio silence?" he said feebly. "But, Captain, we've ... we've...."
Hawkins sat bolt upright in his bunk. "Good Lord, man, do you mean to
say that you've been sending messages to Earth right along?"
The Communications Officer nodded. "We started relaying from the moment
you contacted the alien. We've sent out all the talks, speeches,
reports, everything. Just as you ordered." The man was cringing in
fright.
"But didn't you hear the alien tell us to make no attempt to contact
our home base or he'd destroy us at once?" Hawkins demanded.
The other officer felt like crawling out of the room without bothering
to open the door. "I'm sorry, Captain," he managed to stutter. "But I
must have missed that ... that part of what he said. I ... I was called
out of the office during part of the contact when something went wrong
with one of our main transmitters." The man had turned a very pale
shade of white. "But I'll stop transmission at once," he said, turning
nervously towards the door.
Hawkins looked at his watch. "If he hasn't blasted us for it by now, I
don't guess he ever will. But all the same, you'd better stop sending
immediately." As the Communications Officer left the room, Hawkins
cursed mildly under his breath. After all of his plans and sweat and
pains, it would take something like this to bring the whole house of
cards crashing about him, some little insignificant something that
he had overlooked. "For want of a nail...." he said aloud, reminding
himself of the age-old parable.
"But if he meant what he said about not notifying Earth, why hasn't he
already destroyed us?" Hawkins asked himself. Perhaps Lan Sur wasn't as
cruelly logical and unfeeling as they had thought. Hawkins pushed the
thought from his mind, knowing that it would lead him to too much false
hope if he pursued it further. It would be too easy to hope that simply
because Lan Sur had not acted upon one of his threats, he might not act
on the rest of them.
As he thought, Hawkins found himself pacing the floor of his room
anxiously--first to one wall, then a stop, an about face, and back to
the opposite side of the room. He stopped his walking and slumped down
into his chair.
"Back and forth," he said out loud. "From one side to another. I'm
just like the child in Broussard's story. Only instead of a man with a
stick at one end of the hall and a dog at the other, I've got Lan Sur
at both ends. Death, or a kind of slavery which is just about as bad. A
real 'avoidance situation' if ever one existed." He laughed bitterly.
"The closer I come to one choice, the worse it seems and the better the
other choice appears."
He shrugged his shoulders sadly. "But eventually I'll have to realize
that there's no escape. Unfortunately, unlike the child in Broussard's
example, I can't...."
Hawkins stopped suddenly as something occurred to him. "Good God," he
said after a moment. He sat upright in the chair. "It couldn't be. It
just _couldn't_," he told himself. "And yet, I bet, I bet it is!"
He got up from the chair and walked quickly to the wall communicator.
"Hello, Bridge?" he demanded. "Inform all officers not on watch and all
the scientific personnel that I want to see them in the council chamber
in thirty minutes. Exactly thirty minutes, do you understand?"
There was a broad smile on his face as he marched out of his stateroom
to talk with some of the officers and scientists before the meeting.
* * * * *
After all of the men had crowded into the meeting hall, they closed and
locked the doors. The group kept up a low but excited chatter while
they waited for Captain Hawkins to begin.
"Gentlemen," he said finally, calling the meeting to order. "I am
informed by the electronics specialists aboard that they have made this
meeting room as 'spy-proof' as is humanly possible, but I think we've
learned not to trust the power of human technology too much these past
few hours. Therefore, I'm going to tell you just as little of my plans
as I possibly can, on the theory that the best-kept secret is the one
that the fewest people know about."
The crowd seemed anxious, and a little apprehensive, but still hopeful.
"Within the past hour, I have made what I think are several remarkable
discoveries. I shall not tell you what they are, but I think I have
discovered a way out of the dilemma that we are facing."
The crowd breathed a unanimous sigh of relief. Smiles broke out on
several faces.
"I cannot tell you just at the moment what this mode of escape is. But
I have discussed it with a few of you--the fewest number possible--and
all of them agree that there is an excellent chance that it will work.
If it does, we of Earth will still face a great many problems. But
we shall, at least, be free, and that is the important thing. If we
fail...." Hawkins let his voice trail off for a moment. "If we fail, we
can expect instant destruction not only for us, but for all of mankind."
He waited for the meaning to sink in, his face set in a firm frown. And
then, purposefully, he let his facial muscles relax into a broad smile.
"But I do not think that we will fail. I think we will win. And I have
come to ask your permission to risk all our lives on the venture.
I cannot give you any more information. I can only ask for your
confidence--and for your votes of approval." He looked around the room
deliberately, pausing for just the right length of time. And then he
said, "Will all of you who have sufficient faith in me and my judgment
please rise in assent?"
Broussard had given him the trick of mass decision--had told him that
if you make people commit themselves openly, the decision has a better
chance of unanimity. Hawkins smiled to see how well the device worked.
Every man in the room was on his feet, most of them cheering.
He waited for the shouting to die down and then said simply, "Thank
you. And now to battle stations."
* * * * *
Captain Allen Hawkins sat in his control seat on the _Sunward's_
bridge, staring at the button that turned on his radio set. "The
purpose of a position of responsibility is to make decisions," he told
himself.
A green light burst into life on the control panel, indicating that all
of the preparations he had asked for were in readiness. Such signals
would be his only means of communications during the entire maneuver,
for he had given orders that no one was to utter one word aloud during
the entire operation. He was taking no chances.
Hawkins grinned. "And the devil take the hindmost," he told himself.
Pressing down on the radio button, he said aloud, "This is Captain
Allen Hawkins of the _Sunward_ calling Surveyor Lan Sur of the Dakn
Empire."