Jack McDevitt: A Talent for War

"I don’t think," I said, "that we should surrender the Corsarius. Under any conditions. Anyhow, you saw what they did to the Centaur. I don’t think we have any choice but to fight. Or run, if we can."

"It’s suicide," she said.

I couldn’t argue with that. Still, we had a hell of a ship. And they wanted it very badly. That might give us an advantage of sorts. "Computer, if the alien’s shield was down, what would be the logical target for the scattershot?"

"I would recommend," it said, "either the bridge or the power plant. I will inform you if I am able to locate them."

Chase looked out the viewport at the mute, whose shadow now filled the sky. "We might as well throw rocks," she said.

We shut down what was left of our magnetics, and coasted now at a constant speed. The alien settled into a parallel orbit, about a kilometer to starboard. Chase watched them a while, and then shook her head hopelessly. "They can’t see the capsule," she said. "How about if we put a timer on one of the nukes, blow the ship to hell, and get out? We might still be able to make it back to the planet."

"You’d spend the rest of your life there if you did," I said.

"First things first." She hunched her shoulders, and turned back to the screen. "I wonder what they’re waiting for."

"My guess is they’re trying to figure a way to get us out of here without damaging the ship. Maybe they’re waiting for the destroyer to come back. Where is it, by the way?"

"Still headed out of town. I’d say another standard day and a half before they can even turn around. Anyway, what would they need a destroyer for?"

She looked through a viewport at the giant ship floating off our beam.

"Their shields are still up?"

"Yes. This would be a good time for an idea." Her face clouded. "I just had an uncomfortable thought. Can they read our minds from there?"

"I don’t think so. They have to be reasonably close. A few meters, judging by my experience with them. And by the way, if they do get inside your head, you’ll know it."

"Unpleasant sons of bitches, aren’t they?" She tapped the keyboard. "Energy levels have finally stopped rising. I think we’re about as combat ready as we’re going to get. If any of this stuff still works."

"Assume everything’s fine. That’s what we’ll need to survive, so assume it. If there’s a problem somewhere, knowing about it in advance won’t help us any."

"So what do we do now?"

"Wait," I said. "Keep the scattershot primed. If we get a chance to use it, we’re going to shoot, and run like hell."

"Limp like hell," she corrected.

"Benedict."

The sound spilled out of the ship’s commsystem. "It’s coming from the mute," said Chase.

"Don’t acknowledge," I said.

"Alex." The voice was warm, understanding, reasonable. And familiar. "Alex, are you all right? I’ve been worried about life support over there. Is there anything we can do?"

It was S’Kalian. Defender of the peace. Idealist. Friend. "I’m sorry about the loss of the Centaur. The destroyer was only supposed to prevent anyone’s boarding the artifact."

"Stay on the trigger," I told Chase.

"What do I aim at?"

"Pick your target," I said.

"Preferably toward the center," said the computer. "Without specific knowledge, the most probable location of the power plant would be a centralized position within the configuration."

S’Kalian again: "Alex?"

Chase nodded. "Locked in. Now’s your chance to ask him to take down the screens."

"Alex, you can hear me. We have an opportunity to settle this peacefully. There need be no bloodshed."

I opened a channel. His image appeared on one of the auxiliary monitors. He looked solicitous, compassionate. "You can’t have the Corsarius, S’Kalian."

"We already have it. Fortunately for both our people, we have it."

"Why?" I asked. "Why is it so valuable to you?"

"Surely by now you have guessed, Alex." His tone dropped an octave. "Sim’s secrets will be safe with us. We are not an aggressive species. Your people have nothing to fear."

"That’s easy to say."

"We don’t have your bloody history, Alex. War is not a normal condition of life among us. We do not kill our own kind, nor would we have killed yours if it could have been avoided. We still live today with the memory of that terrible war."

"That was two hundred years ago!"

"And there," he said, sadly, "lies the difference between us. For the Ashiyyur, yesterday’s tragedy remains painfully fresh. It is not merely history."

"Yes," I said. "We’ve seen how violence upsets you."

"I’m sorry about the attack on the Centaur. But we wished very much to avoid the situation which has now arisen. However, we cannot permit the Corsarius to be returned to its creators. The sad truth of all this is that we may yet be forced to take your lives."

"What do you want?"

"Only the ship. Turn it over to us. I’m prepared to provide safe passage home for you, and to compensate you generously for the loss of the artifact."

I looked at him, trying to read sincerity into those too-thoroughly composed features. "What’s involved in the surrender? How do you propose to do it?"

"It’s not a surrender, Alex," he said smoothly. "It’s an act of courage under difficult circumstances. But we would simply send over a boarding party. As for you, all we ask is that you signify your consent by leaving the vessel. Both of you, that is." He nodded, expressing content that we were moving toward a prudent course. "Yes, simply leave the vessel. Come here to us. You have my solemn guarantee that you will be well treated."

"And released?"

He hesitated. It was brief, a moment’s reluctance. "Of course." He smiled encouragingly. Somehow, during the conversation we’d had at Kostyev House, the fact that his lips never moved had been less disconcerting, perhaps because I could see the communication device by which he spoke, or maybe because the circumstances had changed so drastically. Whatever it was, the dialogue was thoroughly unnerving, and carried with it a sense of direct mental contact. I wondered whether I had underestimated him, whether he was in fact reaching across the void and penetrating my mind. "Are you prepared to leave?"

"We’re thinking about it." Chase stared at the overhead.

"Very good. We will watch for you. In deference to your feelings, we will make no effort to board the ship until you have arrived safely here.

"By the way, Alex, I know this is difficult for you. But the day will come when our two species will stand united in fast friendship. And I suspect you will be remembered for your contribution to that happy moment."

"Why is it so important?" I asked. "Why do you want the ship?"

"It is a symbol of the evil time. I think, in all honesty, that it could not have been found at a worse period. We are again close to war, your people and mine. This vessel with all the memories it will stir, could well be the catalyst for a tidal wave of hostility. We cannot, in conscience, allow that to happen."

Who’s he kidding? Chase asked with her eyes.

"This is not an easy decision for us," I said.

"I understand."

"Please give us a moment to think about it."

"Of course."

"Do it!" Chase said, as soon as his image had faded. "It’s a way out. And they’d have nothing to gain by killing us."

"The sons of bitches would kill us, Chase. They aren’t going to turn us loose."

"You’re crazy," she said. "We’ve got to trust them. What other choice do we have? I don’t want to give my life for a derelict. You know as well as I do that if they can’t have this thing, they’ll just blow it up and us with it. And any notions we have of fighting that goddam monster are just so much fantasy. I mean, this antique wouldn’t have a chance against that son of a bitch, even if it had a full crew and Sim himself sitting in that chair."