Zach Hughes: Closed System

have a ship, Corinne. At least I'd beperforming a useful function." "So you want to be useful? Then kiss me," shesaid. For a long time Pat did not think of the very real danger to the UP. Man's love for woman, and Pat's

need for this particular woman, must have been,he thought wryly, the original mind-dominancedrug, for

with his lips on hers nothing else mattered. She lay on her back on a large, soft couch. Heleaned over her, torso to torso, mouth to mouth.She trembled, clung, seemed to be trying to pressherself so closely to him that she became weldedto his body.

When she spoke, her voice was husky and un­steady. "I don't want to wait," she whispered. Neither did he. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" Her eyes were wide, and there was a touching look of desire, and

perhaps just a little innocent fear, on her face.Somewhere deep down in Pat a touch of his old cynicism surfaced. Either she was the most skillfulactress he'd ever known, or she was, as her brotherhad stated, totally inexperienced in love.

Within minutes, he realized, he would know moreabout that, for his need was great, and there wasthe chance that something might happen, because even with an overwhelming weapon the Taratwofleet would not escape without losses. The sheernumber of UP ships assured that. Was she think­ing the same thing? Did she want to seize whatthey had, rather than risk dying without havinganything?

"It matters to you," he told her, kissing her softlips with little pecking attacks. "It is you thatmatters." "Then make love to me, Pat." Her voice broke,and she closed her eyes. He wanted to make love to her. He let his hands begin to know the smooth curves of her, thoughtsmugly

that he, old Audrey Patricia Howe, loved and was loved by the most beautiful girl in thepopulated galaxy.

And he almost, almost, did. Giving up Corinne Tower was the hardest thing he'd ever done. The thought process, running as an undercurrent to the wildness of his need for her, was not a logical process from A to B to C. Histhoughts were chaotic. He remembered that firstnight aboard Skimmer when he saw her in theZede film, and the dream in which she'd come tohim, and he remembered how she'd looked so beau­tiful even while he was drinking the drugged li­quor which put him through seven and a half daysof hell, and the love in her eyes even as she stabbedhis neck with a syringe.

But that woman wasn't Corinne Tower, thatwoman was Corinne Brenden. The two are the same. They're one. They're inseparable. She's the most desirable woman I've ever known. She has the political morality of a spider. She trusts you, Pat. She trusts you. She's willingto send those naive young Dorchlunt men off tokill

millions of people, but she trusts you, and sheloves you. He went so far as to see that her breasts wereperfection. Her reaction to his kiss there was wide-eyed amazement and clinging.

For a moment, then, she was calm and self-possessed. She pushed his head away, looked athim, those green eyes piercing. "One thing is im­portant to me," she said. "Yes?" "I can never prove, without your trust, that youare the first man ever to see me like this." "I believe," he whispered. "When you know that you are the first to haveme, will you believe that no man has ever seenme?" Well, it was possible. Not probable, especiallyconsidering that she'd worked in the film industry, but it

was possible. "Yes," he said. Her intake of breath, her wide eyes, her tremblings, which could have been fear, touched him—and then

he was talking to himself again. She trusts you, Pat, and you're just waiting for achance to stop this criminal thing she believes in.And

even if she's willing to kill millions, and per­haps tear down civilization as you know it, rightnow she's just a girl, just a young woman wholoves you and trusts you. "Corinne, let's talk for a minute," he said, pull­ing the silken material of her gown up to coverher. "Talk?" she asked. "Talk?"

"I do believe you," he said truthfully. No woman could be that accomplished of an actress. "Brendensaid you had always been romantic, that you hadalways looked forward to loving one man."

She giggled. "Someday when we have hours andhours, I'll tell you how damned difficult that was,the ruses I had to use."

"It was that important to you, wasn't it?"

"Of course," she said, beginning to look a bit puzzled.

"Then it's important to me to help you keep thatresolution, Corinne." He rose, pulling away fromher clutching hands. "Honey, you've waited this long. We can wait a little longer."

Because, although his conscience ordered him tobetray her, to do all he could to stop the Taratwofleet, he could not betray her on a personal level. If he accepted her offer of herself, then he'd be boundto her, for having accepted something which she had valued so much, he could never, then, betrayher in any way.

"Damn," she whispered. "I told you how I feel.This could be, I pray that it won't be, but it could be our last time alone together before we fight."

"I know

"I know, honey, I know. You think about it,though. See if I'm not right. It will be much betterthis way. We'll take the old Skimmer after we'remarried and get lost in space somewhere for weeksand weeks."

She came into his arms, weeping. Her kiss relitthe flames in him, but then she was pulling away,talking through tears. "I do love you so much,"she sobbed, "and to think that you value me thatmuch, are so considerate of my feelings, that makesme love you even more."

He spent the night on the Skimmer. Corinne joinedhim there early in the morning, in a neat blueuniform, all business, and they lifted up to join thefleet. Corinne's flagship was a gleaming new heavycruiser. It had come out of a Zedeian shipyard lessthan one year past, and represented the latest innaval technology.

The ship's disrupter installation was topside for­ward. The weapon was manned by a young Dorch­luntercut from the same pattern as all the others,a serious, handsome boy of not more than eigh­teen. Fleet communications was handled by anofficer from the Brenden's home planet, a brisk,efficient man who, under Corinne's orders, soonhad her half of the fleet in formation to attack theother half of the fleet under the Brenden's command.

The last time ships of war had opened the dou­ble fail-safe locks on weapons was when a smallUP fleet wiped out the pirates who had made theHogg Moons their hideway. And yet, with UP X&Aships opening new blink routes constantly, withthe knowledge that at one time there'd been akiller race in the galaxy, ships of war and their crews needed training, just in case. The fleets ofthe UP were always having war games. It wasstandard practice for all ships, including those builtfor Taratwo by the Zedeians, to have a way ofkeeping score accurately in those war games. Eachweapon was equipped with a harmless beam pro­jector, and the ship's sensors were tuned to detectthe light beam's impact, should a ship be hit. Thusthere were two records, one on the ship whichfired the weapon, and one on the ship which was hit. Central fire control gathered the computer dataand, in a war game in space, sent out the word tovictim and victor when a ship was hit.

It had been, Corinne said, fairly simple to inte­grate the disrupters into the system. By activatingonly the primary power source of a disrupter, a stream of harmless electrons bypassed the closedsystem of the secondary power stage and regis­tered as a hit on the target ship.

UP naval tactics were well recorded, in hun­dreds of books. Since the Zedeian war, theorieshad not changed. A fleet was most effective whenin formation, bringing massed firepower to bear. Anaval engagement, then, would become a struggleof endurance, shield against laser, AMM againstmissile. UP tactics were perfect for the Brenden,for, unlike the UP ships, his ships had to makeonly one hit, on any portion of a ship, to be of deadly effect. Laser weapons, missiles, projectileweapons—all had to make multiple hits on ashielded ship to do significant damage.