Decision, Page 3

suddenly said. "The men onthe _Josef_ are ... human beings."

  "Are they, Mister?" The Captain hated the lecturing attitude but hecouldn't help it. "They're the representatives of the Combine, aren'tthey? And I suppose the Combine acted like human beings during theBerlin war? I suppose the slave labor camps and the purges and theforced confessions were the products of ordinary human beings? No,Lieutenant, if the aliens have six arms and two heads they couldn't beless inhuman than the Combine has been!"

  "My father was in the Pacific in the Second World War," the Lieutenantsaid tightly. "There were times when we ... didn't take prisoners. And Iremember my Dad saying that some of the men went home with earnecklaces."

  "Hearsay," the Captain said gruffly. "And that was in a declared war."And then he wondered just how valid the distinction was. There were, hesupposed, sadists on both sides. And then it came down to who committedthe first cruelty and just how should you rank them? Was intentionaltorture for the few any the worse than the dispassionate act of droppinga bomb that produced quite the same, if not worse, results for the many?

  "Just what would you do, Mister McCandless?"

  The Lieutenant's face was flushed. "I'm not sure, sir. But I think Iwould look at it from a strategic viewpoint. There are two ships here,both instruments of war. If the aliens attack the one, and the otherdoesn't go to the rescue, then it would be obvious that we are a dividedworld. We would be a tempting ... prize."

  "And if we went to the aid of the _Josef_, then you think we might beatthe alien ship off?"

  McCandless shrugged. "I don't know, sir. We might."

  The Captain turned back to look at the now swelling sea. The air off thewater was cool and brisk and the deck of his ship moved comfortablyunder his feet; a solid thing in a liquid world.

  "It doesn't make a great deal of difference what we think, Lieutenant,"the Captain said, a little of his good humor restored. "In the long run,we'll do whatever Washington says."

  There was a sudden, flashing glow just over the horizon. McCandlessblanched and the Captain clutched the rail, his knuckles turning whitewith the force of his grip. There was another flash and the OD poppedout of the hatch of the wheelhouse like a cork out of a bottle."Captain! the ..."

  The Captain was already brushing past him, heading into the pilothousefor the television screen and the picture that the drone plane wastransmitting.

  The picture on the screen wavered and blurred with the shock of theaction. From what he could see, the Captain knew that whatever action hetook, if any, he would have to take it within a relative few minutes.The forward half of the superstructure of the _Josef_ was a smokingruin, the metal a cherry red.

  Half the planes on the flight deck were charred and being franticallypushed overboard by small tractors so the remainder of the planes couldbe airborne. A mile overhead, in the glazing blue sky, the few planesthe _Josef_ had managed to launch buzzed futilely about the alien ship,discharging rockets that scintillated and flamed off the dull gray sidesand, so far as the Captain could tell, were causing no damage at all.

  "Message for you, sir."

  He felt the clip board being pushed into his hand, then glanced down. Itwas difficult to read without his glasses but he could make it out.

  _Unusual ... do nothing rash ... your discretion ..._

  Some cautious pen pusher behind a desk, he thought chaotically. Somebodyfor whom miles had lent safety and detachment.

  _His_ discretion ...

  It was his responsibility.

  * * * * *

  Commander Davis was at his elbow. "The _Josef_'s starting to list,Captain."

  "I can see that!" he half snarled.

  He wouldn't feel pity if the _Josef_ went down, he thought fiercely. Itwould be good riddance, one less carrier that they would have to worryabout at some future date.

  If there was some future date, a nagging thought intruded.

  He throttled it. The _Josef_ stood for everything that he despised, away of life that had made a mockery of everything he had been taught tobelieve in. The menace that had eaten at the world's vitals like acancer, the menace whose existence had been enough to drive some men tohysteria and others to the brink of suicide. His own wife ...

  Now a ship from Outside was attacking that power and what emotionsshould he feel? Elation? Well, why not? What other emotions should hefeel? Certainly not sadness, not regret, not pity.

  The _Josef_ would be sunk and maybe the aliens would be tempted to domore than just attack the _Josef_; they might attack the entire Combineas well. And if the Combine was beat, did it matter who did it?

  Except, the thought crept back, there was no reason for him to believethat the aliens would differentiate between the _Josef_ and the _Oahu_,between the Combine and the United States.

  "The planes!" McCandless said, incredulous. "Look at the planes!"

  The Captain glanced down at the screen again. An orangish glow wassuffusing the alien ship. A jet slipped in for a rocket shot. The glowpulsed, expanded, touched the jet, and the plane vanished into a rain ofwreckage that sped towards the ocean below.

  "God!" Davis breathed. "Did you see that?"

  The Captain only half heard him. So they were aliens. What did thatmean? Beings of different background, different beliefs, differentphysical structure? He had been one of the first into Berlin after themassacre was over and the Combine had laid the blame on their BerlinCommandant, though it was painfully obvious that he had only followedout instructions. And the shambles he had seen there couldn't have beendone by human beings. Four thousand soldiers and close to a hundredthousand civilians killed. Would you call the people who had beenresponsible for that human beings or ... aliens? Which name fit best?

  The Berlin war ...

  A dozen different outbreaks, starting with Korea so long ago ...

  And then you were supposed to admit that they were blood brothers afterall, and that in the face of a mutual threat you should forget yourdifferences and pool your resources against the common enemy.

  "There goes another one!"

  So in fifteen minutes the _Josef_ would go down. And from him it wouldbring only cheers, not tears.

  But you didn't make decisions on a personal basis, he thought slowly.You had to look at it from the viewpoint of a thousand years. You had todevelop a certain detachment, even though one man's lifetime was far tooshort a period to develop it in.

  "Message for you, Captain."

  It was a voice message that had been picked up in CIC. It was brief andto the point.

  _Attention Captain United States Vessel_ Oahu:

  _Help urgently requested. If aid not granted immediately, all is lost._

  _Constantin Simenovich, Captain, People's Warship_ Josef Dzugashvili.

  He had a brief mental picture of a young man lying in the shambles ofBerlin calling out the same words. And what had he received?

  He buried the thought.

  The detached viewpoint. Political systems evolved, he thought, theynever remained the same. The French Revolution had spawned a thousandhuman monsters and the blood had run in the streets. But out of it allhad come a democratic nation. And a thousand years from now, what wouldthe Combine be? A turn of the wheel and perhaps it would be apeace-loving democracy while the United States would be the abattoir ofhuman hopes. Who could tell? A thousand years from now the presentbloodbaths and tortures and mass deaths would be history.

  But if the aliens won you ran the chance of there being no history atall.

  The wheelhouse was silent. The Captain could feel a dozen pairs of eyeswatching him, waiting for his decision. Outside the ports, on the farhorizon, there came a steady, golden pulsing.

  He looked up at McCandless and Davis. McCandless was young, tooinexperienced to realize that situations where today's enemies aretomorrow's friends are the order of the day and not the exception. Youadjusted to it or you became bitter. Davis, the gutless bastard, hadadjusted to it. He was probably already to
make the switch, to go backto drinking toasts in vodka.

  The detached viewpoint.

  "Send up the jets," the Captain said slowly. "And send a message to theCaptain of the _Josef_, telling him we'll render all the assistance thatwe can."

  The wheelhouse broke into a flurry of activity and a moment later hecould hear the sounds of the jets taking off the flight deck. He walkedout on the bridge deck and leaned on the railing, staring at the horizonwhere the alien ship and the _Josef_ were fighting it out. And whereplanes from the _Oahu_ would shortly be helping the _Josef_.

  _But I still hate them_, he thought. _I hate their goddamned souls!_

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Space Science Fiction_ September 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor