A Question of Courage, Page 2

could take them like Lundy tookKoromaja. Since the book doesn't say we have to investigate, we won't."His voice was bitter again.

  At 0840 hours on the fourth day out, my annunciator buzzed. "Sir," thetalker's voice came over the intercom, "Lieutenants Marsden and Allynare wanted in the Captain's quarters."

  * * * * *

  Chase was there--toying with the seals of a thin, brown envelope. "Ihave to open this in the presence of at least two officers," he saidnodding at Allyn who came in behind me. "You two are senior on the shipand have the first right to know." He slid a finger through the flap.

  "Effective 12, Eightmonth, GY2964," he read, "USN 'Lachesis' willproceed on offensive mission against enemy vessels as part of advancecovering screen Fleet Four for major effort against enemy via sectors YD274, YD 275, and YD 276. Entire Scouting Force IV quadrant will begrouped as Fleet Four Screen Unit under command Rear Admiral SIMMS.Initial station 'Lachesis' coordinates X 06042 Y 1327 Betelgeuse-Rigelbaseline. ETA Rendezvous point 0830 plus or minus 30, 13/8/64.

  "A. Evars, Fleet Admiral USN Commanding."

  There it was! I could see Allyn stiffen as a peculiar sick look crossedChase's dry face. And suddenly I heard all the ugly littlenicknames--Subspace Chase, Gutless Gus, Cautious Charley--and the dozenothers. For Chase was afraid. It was so obvious that not even the graymask of his face could cover it.

  Yet his voice when he spoke was the same dry, pedantic voice of old."You have the rendezvous point, Mr. Marsden. Have Mr. Esterhazy set thecourse and speed to arrive on time." He dismissed us with thetraditional "That's all, gentlemen," and we went out separate ways. Ididn't want to look at the triumphant smile on Allyn's face.

  We hit rendezvous at 0850, picked up a message from the Admiral at 0853,and at 0855 were on our way. We were part of a broad hemisphericalscreen surrounding the Cruiser Force which englobed the Line and supplytrain--the heavies that are the backbone of any fleet. We were headedroughly in the direction of the Rebel's fourth sector, the one top-heavywith metals industries. Our exact course was known only to the brass andthe computers that planned our interlock. But where we were headedwasn't important. The "Lachesis" was finally going to war! I could feelthe change in the crew, the nervousness, the anticipation, the adrenalresponses of fear and excitement. After a year in the doldrums, Fleetwas going to try to smash the Rebels again. We hadn't done so well lasttime, getting ambushed in the Fifty Suns group and damn near losing ourshirts before we managed to get out. The Rebs weren't as good as wewere, but they were trickier, and they could fight. After all, whyshouldn't they be able to? They were human, just as we were, and any oneof a dozen extinct intelligent races could testify to our fightingability, as could others not-quite-extinct. Man ruled this section ofthe galaxy, and someday if he didn't kill himself off in the processhe'd rule all of it. He wasn't the smartest race but he was thehungriest, the fiercest, the most adaptable, and the most unrelenting.Qualities which, by the way, were exactly the ones needed to conquer ahostile universe.

  But mankind was slow to learn the greatest lesson, that they _had_ tocooperate if they were to go further. We were already living on borrowedtime. Before the War, ten of eleven exploration ships sent into thegalactic center had disappeared without a trace. Somewhere, buried deepin the billions of stars that formed the galactic hub, was a race thatwas as tough and tricky as we were--maybe even tougher. This was commonknowledge, for the eleventh ship had returned with the news of thealiens, a story of hairbreadth escape from destruction, and a pattern oftheir culture which was enough like ours to frighten any thinking man.The worlds near the center of humanity's sphere realized the situationat once and quickly traded their independence for a Federal Union topool their strength against the threat that might come any day.

  But as the Union Space Navy began to take shape on the dockyards ofEarth and a hundred other worlds, the independent worlds of theperiphery began to eye the Union with suspicion. They had never believedthe exploration report and didn't want to unite with the worlds of thecenter. They thought that the Union was a trick to deprive them of theirfiercely cherished independence, and when the Union sent embassies toinvite them into the common effort, they rejected them. And when wesuggested that in the interests of racial safety they abandon theirhaphazard colonization efforts that resulted in an uncontrolled seriesof jumps into the dark, punctuated by minor wars and clashes whencolonists from separate origins landed, more or less simultaneously, ona promising planet, they were certain we were up to no good.

  Although we explained and showed them copies of the exploration ship'sreport, they were not convinced. Demagogues among them screamed aboutmanifest destiny, independence, interference in internal affairs, and athousand other things that made the diplomatic climate between Centerand Periphery unbearably hot. And their colonists kept moving outward.

  Of course the Union was not about to cooperate in this potential racesuicide. We simply couldn't allow them to give that other race knowledgeof our whereabouts until we were ready for them. So we informed each ofthe outer worlds that we would consider any further efforts atcolonizing an unfriendly act, and would take steps to discourage it.

  That did it.

  * * * * *

  We halted a few colonizing ships and sent them home under guard. Weuprooted a few advance groups and returned them to their homeworlds. Weestablished a series of observation posts to check furtherexpansion--and six months later we were at war.

  The outer worlds formed what they called a defensive league and withcharacteristic human rationality promptly attacked us. Naturally, theydidn't get far. We had a bigger and better fleet and we were organizedwhile they were not. And so they were utterly defeated at the Battle ofOphiuchus.

  It was then that we had two choices. We could either move in and takeover their defenseless worlds, or we could let them rebuild and getstrong, and with their strength acquire a knowledge of cooperation--andtake the chance that they would ultimately beat us. Knowing this, wewisely chose the second course and set about teaching our fellow men alesson that was now fifteen years along and not ended yet.

  By applying pressure at the right places we turned their attentioninward to us rather than to the outside, and by making carefully timedsorties here and there about the periphery we forced them through sheermilitary necessity to gradually tighten their loosely organized Leagueinto tightly centralized authority, with the power to demand andobtain--to meet our force with counterforce. By desperate measures andstraining of all their youthful resources they managed to hold us off.And with every strain they were welded more tightly together. Andslowly they were learning through war what we could not teach throughpeace.

  Curiously enough, they wouldn't believe our aims even when capturedcrews told them. They thought it was some sort of tricky mentalconditioning designed to frustrate their lie detectors. Even while theytightened their organization and built new fleets, they would notbelieve that we were forcing them into the paths they must travel toavoid future annihilation.

  It was one of the ironies of this war that it was fought and would befought with the best of intentions. For it was obvious now that we couldnever win--nor could they. The Rebels, as we called them, were everywhit as strong as we, and while we enjoyed the advantages of superiorposition and technology they had the advantage of superior numbers. Itwas stalemate,--the longest, fiercest stalemate in man's bloody history.But it was stalemate with a purpose. It was a crazy war--a period ofconstant hostilities mingled with sporadic offensive actions like theone we were now engaged in--but to us, at least, it was war with apurpose--the best and noblest of human purposes--the preservation of therace.

  The day was coming, not too many years away, when the first of thealiens would strike the Outer worlds. Then we would unite--on theLeague's terms if need be--to crush the invaders and establish mankindas the supreme race in the galaxy.

  But this wasn't important right now. Right now I was the ExecutiveOfficer of a scout ship c
ommanded by a man I didn't trust. He smelledtoo much like a stinking coward. I shook my head. Having Chase runningthe ship was like putting a moron in a jet car on one of thesuperhighways--and then sabotaging the automatics. Just one fearfulmistake and a whole squadron could be loused up. But Chase was thecommander--the ultimate authority on this ship. All I could do was praythat things were going to come out all right.

  We moved out in the lower red. Battles weren't fought in Cth. There wasno way to locate a unit at firing range in that monochromatic madness.Normal physical laws simply didn't apply. A ship had to come out intothreespace to do any damage. All Cth was was a convenient road to thebattlefront.

  With one exception.

  By hanging in the infra band, on the ragged edge of threespace, a scoutship could remain