George Martin - Tuf Voyaging

“This is your third and final warning, Tuf. We’ll be in range in less than four standard minutes. Surrender now or be destroyed.”

“Sir,” said Tuf, “before you make a grievous error, please consult with your superiors. I am certain there has been a lamentable communications error.”

“You have been tried in absentia and found guilty of being a criminal, a heretic, and an enemy of the people of S’uthlam.”

“I have been grossly misperceived,” Tuf protested.

“You escaped the flotilla ten years ago, Tuf. Don’t think to do it again. S’uthlamese technology does not stand still. Our new weaponry will shred those obsolete defensive shields of yours, I promise you that. Our top historians have researched that ponderous EEC derelict of yours. I supervised the simulations myself. Your welcome is all prepared.”

“I have no wish to seem ungracious, but it was unnecessary to go to such lengths,” said Tuf. He glanced at the banks of telescreens that lined the consoles along both sides of the long, narrow room, and studied the phalanx of S’uthlamese warships rapidly closing upon the Ark. “If this unprovoked hostility has its root in my outstanding debt to the Port of S’uthlam, rest assured that I am prepared to render payment in full immediately.”

“Two minutes,” said Wald Ober.

“Furthermore, if S’uthlam is in need of additional ecological engineering, I find myself suddenly inclined to offer you my services at a much reduced price.”

“We’ve had enough of your solutions. One minute.”

“It would seem I am left with but a single viable option,” said Haviland Tuf.

“Then you surrender?” the commander said suspiciously.

“I think not,” said Haviland Tuf. He reached out, brushed long fingers across a series of holographic keys, and raised the Ark ’s ancient defensive screens.

Wald Ober’s face was hidden, but he managed to get a sneer into his voice. “Fourth generation imperial screens, triple redundancy, frequency overlapping, all shield phasing coordinated by your ship’s computers. Duralloy plate armor on your hull. I told you we’d done our research.”

“Your hunger for knowledge is to be commended,” Tuf said.

“The next sarcasm you mouth may be your last, trader, so you had better take care to make it a good one. The point is, we know exactly what you’ve got, and we know to the fourteenth decimal how much damage an EEC seedship’s defenses can absorb. We’re prepared to give you more than you can handle.” He turned his head. “ Prepare to commence fire ,” he snapped at unseen subordinates. When the dark helmeted face swiveled back toward Tuf, Ober added, “We want the Ark and you can’t stop us from taking it. Thirty seconds.”

“I beg to differ,” said Tuf calmly.

“They’ll fire at my command,” Ober said. “If you insist, I’ll count down the final seconds of your life. Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen . . . ”

“Seldom have I heard such vigorous counting,” said Tuf. “Please do not lose track on account of my distressing news.”

“ . . . Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.”

Tuf folded his hands atop his stomach.

“Eleven. Ten. Nine.” Ober looked uneasily to one side, then back at the screen.

“Nine,” announced Tuf. “A fine number. It is customarily followed by eight, thence seven.”

“Six,” Ober said. He hesitated. “Five.”

Tuf waited silently.

“Four. Three.” He stopped. “ What distressing news ?” he roared at the screen.

“Sir,” said Tuf, “if you must shout, you will only oblige me to adjust the volume on my communications equipment.” He raised a finger. “The distressing news is that the mere act of broaching the Ark ’s defensive shields, as I have no doubt you can easily accomplish, will trigger a small thermonuclear device that I have previously secreted within the ship’s cell library, thereby instantaneously destroying the very cloning materials that make the Ark unique, invaluable, and widely coveted.”

There was a long silence. The glowing crimson sensors beneath the darkness of Wald Ober’s faceplate seemed to smoulder as they stared into the screen at Tuf’s blank features. “You’re bluffing,” the commander said at last.

“Indeed,” said Tuf. “You have found me out. How foolish to think I might hoodwink a man of your perspicacity with such a blatant and juvenile deception. And now I fear you will fire upon me, rend my poor obsolete defenses, and demonstrate my lie for good and all. Permit me only a moment to make my farewells to my cats.” He folded his hands neatly atop his great paunch, and waited for the commander to reply. The S’uthlamese flotilla, his instruments avowed, was now well within range.

“I’ll do just that, you damned abortion!” Wald Ober swore.

“I wait with sullen resignation,” said Tuf, unmoving.

“You have twenty seconds,” Ober said.

“I fear my news has confused you. The count previously stood at three. Nonetheless, I shall take shameless advantage of your error and savor each instant remaining to me.”

They stared at each other, face to face and screen to screen, for the longest time. Snug in Tuf’s lap, Dax began to purr. Haviland Tuf reached down to stroke the cat’s long black fur. Dax purred even more loudly and began kneading Tuf’s knee with his claws.

“Oh, abort it to hell and gone,” said Wald Ober. He pointed at the screen. “You may have us checked for the moment, but I warn you, Tuf, don’t even think about trying to get away. Dead or fled, your cell library would be equally lost to us. And given a choice I’d sooner you be dead.”

“I comprehend your position,” said Haviland Tuf, “though I, of course, would sooner be fled. Yet I do have a debt to pay to the Port of S’uthlam, and therefore could not honorably depart as you fear, so please accept my assurances that you will have every opportunity to ponder my visage, and I your fearsome mask, while we sit locked in this irksome impasse.”

Wald Ober never got the chance to reply. His battle mask vanished abruptly from the screen, and was replaced by a woman’s homely features—a broad crooked mouth, a nose that had been broken more than once, hard leathery skin with the deep blue-black cast that comes from lots of exposure to hard radiation and decades of anti-carcinoma pills, pale bright eyes in a nest of squint-folds, all of it surrounded by a lavish halo of coarse gray hair. “So much for getting tough,” she said. “You win, Tuf. Ober, you’re now an honor guard. Form up and escort him into the web, damn it.”

“How thoughtful,” said Haviland Tuf. “I am pleased to inform you that I am now prepared to tender the final payment due the Port of S’uthlam for the refitting of the Ark.”

“I hope you brought some catfood, too,” Tolly Mune said drily. “That so-called ‘five-year supply’ you left me ran out almost two years ago.” She signed. “I don’t suppose you’d care to retire and sell us the Ark. ”

“Indeed not,” said Tuf.

“I didn’t think so. All right, Tuf, break out the beer, I’m coming to talk to you as soon as you reach the web.”

“While I mean no disrespect, I must confess that I am not at the moment in the best frame of mind for entertaining such a distinguished guest as yourself. Commander Ober has recently informed me that I have been adjudged a criminal and heretic, a curious conception, as I am neither a citizen of S’uthlam nor an adherent to its dominant religion, but no less disquieting for all that. I am agog with fear and worry.”

“Oh, that,” she said. “Just an empty formality.”

“Indeed,” Tuf said.

“Puling hell, Tuf, if we’re going to steal your ship we need a good legal excuse, don’t we? We’re a goddamned government. We’re allowed to steal the things we want as long as we put a shiny legal gloss over it.”