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

“ But you’d be in good company. ”

“You think I’d get the maximum?”

“ Don’t know. There are no precedents. But considering the fact you’ve killed a few of these creatures, and you’ve been less than polite to the director, I suspect they might even look for other charges. ”

“Yeah. I suppose they might.”

“ I’m no lawyer, you understand. ”

A half-hour after that conversation I broke up an intended landing on the southern coast of Palavi, an island-continent shaped like an enormous horseshoe, with the open end facing west.

Troops were moving shoreward in five small boats, the same type I’d seen during my first action. (I’d begun using military terminology by then. It felt good.) There was a town about four miles away from the projected point of landing, and it was just after dawn. The coastline was obscured by mist.

George brought the lander over the boats and, when they were about halfway to shore, we circled around, killed the lightbender so they could see us, kicked it up to full throttle, and ran directly at them. Well, not quite directly . We stayed high enough that there could be no collision, but I doubt it looked that way from the water. I wished the lander could make some noise, but the thing was silent and there just wasn’t anything to be done about that. Nevertheless, its sudden appearance was enough. The Noks screamed. Some dived behind the gunwhales; others jumped into the ocean. Even George was amused.

We took a second run, after which all five boats were drifting, and pretty much the entire unit was in the water.

A few got shots off. “Engage the lightbender, George,” I said. “Take us up.”

The AI complied, and lifted us out of range. “ We took a hit on the portside sweep light, ” he reported. “ It’s out. ”

“Okay.”

“ It appears there’s a lot of confusion below. ”

“Raid canceled.”

“ We have radio traffic, Art. They’re reporting the incident. ”

“Put it on the speaker.”

We listened to the end of the report. Unknown vehicle floating in air. “ Not a dirigible. Repeat: Not a dirigible. No visible means of support. ”

“ Did it attack you? ”

“ Yes. ”

“ What kind of weapons? ”

“ It tried to ram us. ”

“ You’re sure it was levitating? ”

“ Captain, everybody here saw it. ”

“ Very good. Proceed with the mission. ”

It didn’t sound as if the captain believed them. The Noks in the landing party were seeing things. “Let’s go talk to the captain,” I said.

George hesitated. “ Keep in mind, Art, they have heavy weapons. We could get blown out of the sky. ”

I’ll admit something here: If I’d been alone, I would probably have backed away. But George was watching. And yes, I know AI’s are only machines and nothing more. That they’re no more intelligent than rocks. But it didn’t matter. “Do it anyway. It’ll take them time to zero in on us.”

This time there were only two warships. They were gray and dark, the color of the ocean, guns sticking out in all directions. Killing machines. If we’d had any sense of decency, we’d have made contact at the beginning and banned warships from the open sea. Forced peace on them. Whether they liked it or not.

“ Which ship? ”

I couldn’t tell which was the command vessel. Both were pointed south, out to sea, ready to clear in a hurry if they had to. They were several hundred meters apart. “The one on the left,” I said.

George took us in over the bow. We snuggled up against the bridge, nose to nose. I counted five Noks inside. It was easy enough to pick out the ship’s commander, who was wearing a hat that would have embarrassed Napoleon. “Good,” I said. “Let’s light up.”

And suddenly there we were, hanging directly in front of them. Close enough to shake hands. The commander jumped a foot. The others dived to the deck as if they were under attack.

I wished I’d had a loudspeaker. But I didn’t so I settled for the radio. “I am the Messenger of the Almighty,” I said. “Stop the killing.”

Klaxons began to sound. A couple of sailors appeared from nowhere, saw us, and scrambled for cover. A third, on a gundeck, went into the water. On the bridge, they were still hiding.

“You have been warned,” I said.

George beeped and booped. “ We should leave, ” he said.

“Not yet.” I used the laser to take out the forward gun, and topple both of the ship’s masts. A couple of Noks appeared and took shots at us.

“Okay,” I said. “let’s go. And let’s turn the lights out.”

We vanished and left them standing around gawking. One of the big guns started firing but I was damned if I could figure out why. It wasn’t even pointed in our direction.

We disabled the second ship in much the same way, and were flying in a circle overhead admiring our work when George did the electronic equivalent of clearing his throat.

“What?” I asked.

“ I don’t think that Messenger of the Almighty routine works. ”

“Why not?”

“ It’s hard not to laugh. ”

“You’re not a Nok.”

“ If it was having an effect, they wouldn’t be shooting at us. ”

I was born in Toronto. My father owned a real estate development company. My mother held a master’s in literature from one of the Ivy League schools and taught at the University of Toronto. They were Anglicans, my father fairly casual in his observances, my mother devout. “Has to be a God out there somewhere,” she was fond of telling me. “I don’t think he has much to do with the God of the Bible, but he has to be there. I can’t believe this world is all there is.”

I wanted to believe. Maybe to keep her happy. Maybe because I liked the idea that Someone with a lot of influence really cared about me. So I tried. Pretended to, sometimes, when earthquakes took out a few thousand people, or a kid somewhere fell off a bridge, and the preacher admitted that he didn’t understand God’s ways.

Looking back now on my experiences with the Nok wars, I wonder whether I was less generous than I like to think, whether I hadn’t seen an opportunity to play God and tried to seize it.

Messenger of the Almighty. Would that it had been so.

The Noks were believers, too. At least, theoretically. They had the same sort of general religious history that we had. In ancient times, they’d believed in a plethora of divinities, one to keep the tides running, another to hustle the sun and moons across the sky, another to see to the seasons. In time, they’d discovered that Nature was an interrelated whole, and with that discovery came monotheism and intolerance. Same process as had happened at home.

The Noks had several major religions, and they constituted an integral part of the ongoing conflicts. Killing unbelievers, during some eras, seemed to be okay and even occasionally required for salvation.

I couldn’t help wondering how it happened that monotheistic religions on Nok and at home both revolved around the concept of judgment and salvation. The physical world was an imperfect place, filled with sorrow and, ultimately, loss. There had to be something better. I heard echoes of Mom. It’s a hard life. And we were living in Toronto. On the lakefront. Sailing Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I asked her once if she thought there really was a judgment.

“Yes.” She’d smiled at the question, probably delighted that I was actually thinking about these things. “But I think it’ll be different from what most people expect. I doubt we’ll be held accountable for not getting to church often enough, or for giving in to forbidden pleasures.”