Timothy Zahn - The Green And The Gray

"Because we're not going to stoop to that sort of thing, that's why," Ron said.

"And not all Greens would, either," Zenas said.

"With all due respect, Zenas, it doesn't matter what you or Laurel or even Melantha would do,"

Jonah said bluntly. "Nikolos is the Command-Tactician in charge; and if we let him get his Warriors to Manhattan or Queens or Brooklyn, we're dead." He looked at his father. "I don't like it, either. But I don't think we have any choice."

"We can stop them," Ron said firmly. "All of us together—" his eyes flicked to Zenas and Laurel and Melantha "—plus all the Greens who genuinely want peace. We can stop them."

"How?" Jonah countered. "Through Cyril? Even if he does still want a truce, they're not going to listen to him. Like I said, Nikolos is in charge, and all he's ever wanted to do is destroy us." Almost reluctantly, he turned to Roger. "I am sorry about Caroline, Roger," he said. "But it's better that one person die before their time than everything we've worked for—everything both of our peoples have worked for—should come to nothing."

He said other things; conciliatory things, most likely, as he tried to justify the death sentence he was proposing. But Roger wasn't really listening. Abruptly, as if Jonah's words had opened a fire hose, all the strange and confusing pieces of this terrible puzzle were flying in from dusty corners of his mind, flipping around and turning over as he saw them in a brand new light, falling together in a way he'd never anticipated.

And in the space of half a dozen heartbeats, he had it. He had it all.

"Roger?"

He blinked his attention back, to find them all staring at him. "You all right?" Fierenzo asked.

"I'm fine." Roger took a deep breath. "I've got it."

"You've got what?"

"The answer," Roger told him, looking around the room. "The answer to everything. Maybe."

"You mean how to stop the Warriors?" Stephanie asked hopefully.

"No," Roger said, smiling tightly at her. "How to stop the war."

There was a stunned silence as he stood up and crossed to the phone. "Well?" Fierenzo said at last.

"Don't keep us in suspense."

"In a minute," Roger said, picking up the phone. "I have to make a couple of calls first."

"To whom?" Jonah asked, his voice dark with suspicion.

Roger smiled crookedly at him. "Trust me, Jonah," he assured the other. "You, especially, are going to love this."

The last of the shadowy figures slipped off into the night, and the Greens along the side of the yacht hauled in the ramp they'd stretched out to the old Gowanus Bay dock on the west end of Brooklyn.

The soft rumble of the idling engines increased in volume, and the yacht pulled away, heading toward the choppy waters of the Upper Bay and the lights of Manhattan beyond.

"That was the last stop," a voice said from behind Caroline. "The rest of us will be getting off at North Cove."

She turned to see Nikolos crossing toward her from the wheelhouse, his trassk glittering against the darker material of his jacket. "Where are they going?" she asked, gesturing off toward the dark landmass rapidly receding into the night as the yacht picked up speed. "To destroy the Gray women and children?"

"Actually, many of the women are standing ready to fight beside their men," Nikolos corrected, coming to her side and leaning onto the railing as he gazed off in the direction the ten Warriors had taken. "Certainly the forces I'm told are waiting for us at the various bridges are mixed groups."

He smiled at her. "Thank you for your assistance in that, by the way," he added. "Having that many Grays gathered up there out of our way will make the operation that much simpler."

Caroline turned her face away, her stomach churning with frustration. So Roger hadn't deciphered her secret message after all. She'd been too clever, or too obscure, and he'd completely missed both of the clues she'd tried so hard to give him. All he'd gotten was the first part, which he'd obligingly passed on to the Grays.

Who now waited uselessly at the northern tip of Manhattan, preparing for a massive battle that wasn't going to happen. At least, not there. "You didn't answer my question," she said.

She sensed Nikolos shrug. "There won't be any direct attacks on the young and infirm, if that's what you're worried about," he said. "The Warriors we sent ashore will be preparing for the confused homeward rush of Grays that I expect to happen when they realize they've been duped. With their sentries in the city reporting a mass of Warriors moving across southern Manhattan, they'll assume my entire force is there and won't expect to encounter any opposition in their home bases in Queens and Brooklyn. Ten Warriors guarding each of the likely approaches should be easily able to pick them off as they charge blindly in."

Caroline's hands curled with vicious strength around the railing. "And you consider this an honorable way to make war?"

"We do what we have to," Nikolos said evenly. "They'd do the same to us if they had the chance."

He paused. "I am sorry, though, that you had to be dragged into it. I would have preferred to leave you and your husband out of it."

"I'm sure you would," she said bitterly. "Ideally, of course, you'd also have preferred that Melantha die so that you could lull the Grays into a false sense of security."

"The Grays didn't want security, Caroline," he said darkly. "All they wanted was enough of an edge over us to guarantee victory. If Melantha had died, they'd have attacked us within days. Possibly even within hours."

"You can't know that."

He shrugged. "Perhaps not in a strictly philosophical sense. But I personally have no doubts."

"Because of what happened seventy-five years ago in another world?"

"Kindly do not presume to lecture me, Caroline," Nikolos said, his voice simmering with hatred. "I was there. You weren't."

For a long moment he stood silently. Then, he seemed to shake himself. "At any rate, it should be over by dawn," he said. "Possibly even by midnight, if the Grays are cooperative enough to act within their optimal parameters."

"Of course," Caroline said. "Sylvia's estimates, I presume?"

Nikolos snorted. "A Command-Tactician hardly needs advice and analysis from a simple Group Commander."

"I'm sure that's true," Caroline agreed, turning to look him square in the face. "But you're not the Command-Tactician. Sylvia is."

She couldn't make out the details of his face in the faint reflected light of the city around them. But the slight pause before he replied told her all she needed to know. "Really," he said at last. "Did she tell you that?"

Caroline shook her head. "I saw the two of you during your war games practice Sunday night," she said. "You crossed the yard to talk to her, instead of the other way around. With Greens, that means she's the higher rank."

"Very good," Nikolos said, a rather forced touch of amusement coloring his voice. "She was right; you are a clever Human. So I stand revealed as a lowly Group Commander, do I?"

Caroline smiled into the darkness. Deception is a necessary part of warfare, Sylvia had told her back at their first meeting. Apparently, it was an ongoing one, as well. "You're not a Group Commander, either," she said. "You're a Persuader."

The silence this time was longer. "What makes you think that?" he asked, even the forced amusement gone from his voice now.

"Many things," Caroline told him, feeling a small flicker of satisfaction amid the tension and despair churning within her. She'd tumbled to this one too late for the information to do her any good. But caught in the middle of a situation where she had no control, it was nice to be able to surprise him, even a little. "For one thing, our Mr. Galen in the wheelhouse is being far too cooperative about having his yacht hijacked by over a hundred strangers. Only a Persuader could have kept him calm through all this."