Джек Макдевитт - Cryptic - The Best Short Fiction of Jack McDevitt

I made no move to go. “Why here? Why Ilyanda?”

“We needed to pick a system where the population was small enough to be moved.”

I smothered an obscenity. “I don’t recall that we got to vote on this.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You have no idea at all what this is about, do you? A million people have died in this war so far. Millions more have been enslaved. The Mutes have burned Cormoral and the City on the Crag and Far Mordaigne. They’ve overrun a dozen systems, and the entire frontier is on the verge of collapse.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “They don’t like us very much, Kindrel. And I don’t think they plan for any of us to be around when it’s over.”

That was a lie. “ We started the war.”

“That’s easy to say. You don’t know what was going on. But it doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re long past drawing fine lines. The killing won’t stop until we’re driven the bastards back where they came from.” He switched one of the displays. Studied the screen. “They’re closing on the Station now. A sizable chunk of their fleet is already within range. And more arriving all the time.” He smiled, and I felt sorry for him. He’d been so caught up in the killing that he was enjoying himself.

“You said Sim doesn’t have much firepower—”

“He doesn’t.”

“Then how—?”

A shadow crossed his face. “The Station’s shields have gone up,” he said. “No, there’s nothing up there of ours except a couple of destroyers. They’re automated, and the Station’s abandoned.” The blinking lights on the battle display were becoming brighter. And more numerous. “All they can see are the destroyers. And something they think is Corsarius in dock with its hull laid open. And the bastards are still keeping their distance. But it won’t make any difference.”

“ Corsarius !” I said. “Sim’s ship?”

“It’s a big moment for them. They’re thinking right now they’re going to take them and end the resistance.” He squinted at the graphics.

I was beginning to suspect it was time to take his advice and make for the wharf, get the Meredith , and head back to the southern hemisphere. Until the dust settled.

“The destroyers are opening up,” he said. “But they won’t even slow the Mutes down.”

“Then why bother? What’s going on?”

“We had to give them some opposition. Keep them from thinking too much.”

“Olander,” I asked, “if you have no ships up there, what’s this all about? How does Sim expect to destroy anything?”

“He won’t. But you and I will, Kindrel. You and I will inflict such a wound on the Mutes tonight that the sons of bitches will never forget.”

Two monitors went blank. Stayed out a few seconds. Then the images returned, swirls of characters blinking frantically. He leaned forward and frowned. “The Station’s taken a hit.” He reached toward me, a friendly, soothing gesture, but I stayed away from him.

“And what are you and I going to do to them?” I asked.

“Kindrel, we are going to stop the sunrise.”

“What?”

“We’ll catch them all. Everything they’ve got here, everything out to a half-billion klicks, will be incinerated. Beyond that, if they see they can get a running start, they’ll have a chance.” He glanced toward the computer. A red lamp glowed on the keyboard. “We have an old Tyrolean freighter, loaded with antimatter. It’s balanced in hyperspace, and it’s waiting a command from me.”

“To do what?”

His eyes slid shut, and I could no longer read his expression. “To materialize inside the sun.” He hung each word in the still air. “We are going to insert it at the sun’s core.” A bead of sweat rolled down his chin. “The result, we think, will be—,” he grinned, “—explosive.”

I could almost have believed there was no world beyond that bar. We’d retreated into the dark, Olander and I and the monitors and the background music and the stone nymphs. All of us.

“A nova?” I asked. My voice must have been barely audible. “You’re trying to induce a nova?”

“No. Not a true nova.”

“But the effect—”

“—Will be the same.” He drew his right hand across his lips. “It’s a revolutionary technique. Involves some major breakthroughs in navigation. It isn’t easy, you know, to maintain a relatively static position in hyperspace. The freighter has a tendency to drift.” He tapped one of the keys, producing a display of technical data. He began an explanation. “Look at this.” And, “Over here, though—.” I could not begin to follow. I didn’t care anyway about the details. He dropped into a monotone and started to talk about gamma rays and hydrogen atoms.

“Come on, Olander,” I exploded, finally. “You can’t expect me to believe that a guy sitting in a bar can blow up a sun!”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes changed, and he looked startled, as though he’d just realized where he was. “You may be right,” he said. “It hasn’t been tried, so they really don’t know. Too expensive to run a test.”

I tried to imagine the sun bloating, expanding, blazing down on Point Edward, engulfing it, boiling the seas. It was Gage’s city, where we’d explored narrow streets and old bookstores, and pursued each other across rainswept beaches and through candlelit pubs. And from where we’d first gone to sea. I’d never forgotten how it had looked the first time we’d come home, bright, and diamond-hard against the horizon. Home. Always it would be home.

And I watched Olander through eyes suddenly grown damp, perhaps conscious for the first time that I had come back with the intention to leave Ilyanda, but knowing now that I never would, would never wish to.

“Olander, they left you to do this?”

“No.” He shook his head vigorously. “It was supposed to happen automatically when the Mutes got close. The trigger was tied in to sensors on the Station. But the Mutes have had some success at disrupting command and control functions. We couldn’t be sure—”

“Then they did leave you.”

“ No! Sim would never have allowed it if he’d known. He has confidence in the system. Those of us who know a little more about such things do not. So I stayed. And disconnected it. And brought it down here with me.”

“My God, and you’re really going to do it?”

“It works out better this way. We can catch the bastards at the most opportune moment. You need somebody to make that judgment. Not a machine.”

“Olander, you’re talking about destroying a world .”

“I’m talking about destroying a threat to human survival.” His eyes found mine at last. The irises were blue, and I could see white all around their edges. “But I understand what you’re saying. No one wanted this to happen. But we’re driven to the wall. If we can’t make this work, here, there may be no future for anyone.”

I needed a moment to find my voice. “If the danger is so clear, where are Rimway and Toxicon? And Earth? A lot of people think the Mutes are open to negotiation.” I was just talking now, my attention riveted to the computer keyboard, to the EXECUTE key, which was black and polished and longer than the others.

I pushed the laser down deeper in my pocket, trying to keep it concealed.

“Well,” he continued, “what the hell. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. A lot of blood has been spilled, and I don’t think anybody’s much open to negotiation now. The only thing that does matter is that they’ll kill all of us. If we allow it.” He stared at the empty glass. Flung it into the dark. It shattered. “Ciao,” he said.