George Zebrowski (22 page)

“But even if you win here, they’ll send a larger force against you. When you release the troops from the cylinder, they cannot be stored again. How will they live?”

“Once we secure the planet, we’ll have ships to escape in.”

“But what if you can’t?”

“I can order the Whisper Ship to destroy itself. I can take the whole planet with me.”

“Give them the ship,” she said.

“Never.” He followed her inside and into the main room.

“You’ll kill us all with you,” she said.

He went to the east window and peered into the grayness. They were waiting for him on the other side. He was looking forward to facing them.

Suddenly the field winked out, flooding the house with light.

Two Earthmen were coming up the hill. Three ships sat on the grassy plain behind them, three large globes casting black shadows in the bright afternoon sunlight. The taller man on the right held his left hand up in a gesture of truce. The sight of them made him restless and uneasy.

“I’ll kill them as soon as they come inside.”

“No — hear what they have to say,” Myraa said.

“They’re coming to talk because they can’t do anything else. They’ll try to seem generous.”

“Gorgias,” she said fearfully, “their thoughts are a blank wall. I can’t see!”

“I don’t need your way of seeing.”

“They’ve never tried to talk with you before.”

She was right. They were showing a certain amount of respect for his power. It occurred to him that he might be able to reach the ship and take off before they got to the front door. But suddenly he was curious to hear what they had to say.

He watched as they approached the front door. Myraa spoke a word and it slid open. Gorgias motioned for them to enter.

The tallest came in first. The door slid shut when they were both inside.

The taller man seemed older. His hair was a deep black. There was a settled expression on his face. The shorter man was stocky, with streaks of white in his bushy brown hair. His eyes were a clear blue; his expression seemed to be a mixture of amusement and arrogance.

“Gorgias — may we talk?” The tall man almost smiled, as if he were greeting an old friend.

“Go ahead, talk.” Gorgias stepped back. Myraa went to one of the chairs by the east window and sat down.

“We want the ship,” the shorter man said. “You can have almost any kind of terms, as long as you stop all hostile actions.”

The tall man gestured for his companion to be silent.

“You don’t expect me to just give it to you?”

“We can give you the chance for a better life,” the tall man said.

“I warn you now,” Gorgias said, “the ship can defend itself without me.”

“This is a truce — what do you take us for?”

Fools.

“Julian — please be quiet.”

“Extermination has been your policy,” Gorgias said. He regretted not having gone to the ship for a hand weapon before the two Earthmen reached the house.

The tall man seemed unimpressed by the accusation. “You know very well that hasn’t happened for centuries.”

“How often does it need to happen — if it’s done right?”

A sad, patient look came into the tall man’s face, reminding Gorgias of his father.

“There can be no agreements between us, Earthman, ever.”

The tall man seemed to consider. “We are not your enemies. My name is Kurbi. My associate is Julian Poincaré. Neither of us had anything to do with the war. We’re trying to clean up after what happened. We don’t have to do this; we want to. As far as the Federation is concerned, it’s all ancient history.”

“You expect me to take what you say seriously?”

“It may be hard, but —”

“Give me back my home world,” Gorgias said. He looked directly at the Earthman.

“I would if I could.”

The tall Earthman was impressive. Gorgias noticed the lack of markings on his green uniform. Who was he? The meeting was not what he had imagined it would be.

“Try to consider things, Gorgias, without the past guiding your thoughts.”

“The past is reliable in my case.”

“It can also destroy your future, unless you choose otherwise.”

“
There is no future for us
,” his father said within him. “
All we can hope for is a personal life in the shadow of the Federation, unless we strike out for uncharted stars. Somewhere in this galaxy, or beyond it, there may be a new home for Herculeans, if we start now
.”

“The facts are undeniable,” Gorgias said. “The destruction of our home worlds, the hunting of my people after the war, the looting, the enslavement.…”

“We agree. This is true.”

Gorgias’s facial muscles tightened. The man was an expert at misdirection. His visit was part of some elaborate trickery.

Kurbi looked at the floor. “Your people were brilliant,” he said slowly. “Your technology and military leadership were astonishing. It was a rich culture, dominated by an absolute pragmatism. What you could do, you always wanted to do, and did as a matter of exercise. You saw yourself as the strongest, the best social organization in the galaxy. The Federation came to believe, quite honestly, that Herculeans wanted to dominate the galaxy, at least that part of it that was the Federation. By Herculean standards, you lost. You were not the strongest.”

Gorgias felt a trembling inside himself.

“Who are you, Kurbi?”

“There are a few of us who don’t want what’s left of your civilization to perish.”

“Why should you care?”

“For the same reason that we went to war to prevent the eclipse of the Federation’s various cultures.”

Again it was not the expected answer. Surely this was not the hunter?

Kurbi held out his hands in a pleading gesture. “Consider this, Gorgias — that this may be your last chance, that others will come if I fail, and that they will not speak or act as I do. Think — ultimately you are also descended from Old Earth, from one of the numerous families of man originating on the continents of Earth. We need not be enemies, not now. You must not die. What is left of your people must live and grow. What you know and have lived must become known. Can you see that I feel what I say?”

“What is there for me in your world?”

“Sanity — happiness, perhaps. You’ve never lived with a whole culture around you. Your people could become numerous again and repopulate the Cluster. It would take time, but it’s possible. We would help.”

Would these fools really help their enemies? Gorgias wondered. It was only a trick.

Gorgias looked into Kurbi’s eyes. “You’re either lying or deluded.”

“But we can and would help,” Kurbi said.

The man seemed to believe what he was saying. Perhaps someone was using him as a tool. Gorgias looked at the shorter man, but his face was a mask.

Gorgias turned his head and looked at Myraa, wondering if she could sense his discovery of the Earthman’s trickery; but her face was expressionless. She looked away from him and gazed out the window.

Gorgias looked back to Kurbi. “My people, you say — but where are my people? Have you seen them lately? What’s left are mindless freaks. Their wills are dead.” He motioned toward Myraa.

Kurbi was silent for a moment. “There are others,” he said finally. “You and I could gather them, bring them here.”

“And what about me?”

“In time … you would be permitted to live here.…”

“Permitted! I’m free — I will not be permitted anything. You don’t offer anything better than what I have now.”

“You have nothing,” said the stocky man.

Kurbi motioned for him to be quiet. “Gorgias, what do you have? Endless wandering …”

“You’ll see what I have. I don’t need anything from Earthmen. Get out!”

The stocky man took Kurbi by the arm and slowly led him to the door. “I’ll be all right, Julian,” the tall man whispered. The door opened and the Earthmen stepped through.

Gorgias followed them outside.

“Fools!” he shouted after them as they made their way down the hill. He felt the centuries of hatred uncoiling inside him like a steel snake, cutting his innards painfully, releasing the resolve that would insure his victory.

“I will destroy all of you!” he cried, his voice echoing. He imagined the bodies lying below, the ships ruined, as he went from body to body cracking heads with his boot.

“I know your game, Kurbi! You may not know it, but I know! I’ll leave you all to rot here. You think you have me trapped. When I’m finished here, I’ll move on Earth itself!”

Neither man showed any sign of stopping to look back, but Kurbi seemed to stumble for a moment.

“Weaklings! That’s all they send against me!” Gorgias laughed.

Kurbi stopped at the bottom of the hill and turned around. “I’ll give you an hour! After that it will be out of my hands. Give yourself up, Gorgias, it’s your only hope.”

“Hope for what? To be tried and exhibited? Look around and breathe all you can, Earthman. Today is the last day of your life!”

Gorgias caught his breath and waited for an answer.

The two men turned away and started across the grass toward the largest ship. Their shadows grew taller at their left as they moved away from the hill. A breeze waved the tall grass.

Gorgias went inside. Myraa was still in the chair, but now her feet were pulled up, arms around her knees.

“They’ve sent a coward to instruct me,” he said. She was silent. He hated her lack of will.

He turned away from her and rushed toward the back door. He might still be able to reach the ship and take off before they put the field back over the hill.

He was finally going to meet the Herculean face-to-face. Kurbi quickened his pace.

“Slow up,” Julian said behind him. “How do you know that he’ll talk to us?”

“He’s seen our truce sign. We’re almost three quarters there and he’s made no move to stop us.”

Kurbi reached the bottom of the hill and started upward.

“He’s probably just curious about who’d dare to come parley with him. He’s flattering himself, Raf.”

“Maybe — but I’ve got to see for myself.”

They finished the climb in silence, reaching the front door together.

The door slid open. A dark shape motioned for Kurbi to enter. Kurbi stepped inside and waited until Julian was at his side.

“Gorgias?” Kurbi asked. “May we talk?” The Herculean was powerfully built, but shorter than Kurbi had imagined him.

“Go ahead — talk.” Gorgias stepped back and regarded them. The woman went to one of the chairs and sat down. Kurbi was about to apologize for the intrusion, but stopped himself.

“We want the ship,” Julian said suddenly, “and for that you can have almost any terms.”

Kurbi swallowed nervously. The fool. He had promised not to interfere. Kurbi motioned for him to shut up.

“You don’t expect me to just give it to you.”

“We can offer you the chance for a better life,” Kurbi said, trying to soften the arrogance of Julian’s statement.

“I warn you, the ship can defend itself without me.”

Kurbi’s stomach tightened. The tone of the meeting was set now; nothing was likely to change it.

“This is a truce,” Julian said, “what do you take us for?”

Kurbi looked into Gorgias’s eyes. The Herculean seemed to be laughing at him.

“Julian — please be quiet.”

Gorgias smiled as Poincaré took a step back.

“Extermination is the policy,” Gorgias said. His gaze did not waver.

“You know very well that hasn’t happened for centuries,” Kurbi said, feeling inadequate.

“How often does it need to happen — if it’s done right?”

It’s going to be impossible
, Kurbi thought. Gorgias was looking at him strangely.

“There can be no agreements between us, Earthman, ever.”

“We are not your enemies,” Kurbi said. The words came out of his mouth without conviction. He continued speaking, but all the things he had dreamed that he would say to the Herculean seemed absurd now.

“You expect me to take what you say seriously?”

No
. “It may be hard,” Kurbi added to his silent assent, “but —”

“Give me back my home world,” Gorgias said, looking directly at him. Suddenly the will behind his eyes seemed unbreakable.
How could I have ever thought of changing him?
Kurbi wondered.

“I would if I could,” Kurbi answered.

Again the Herculean’s eyes searched him strangely.
What is he looking for?

“Try to consider things, Gorgias, without the past guiding your thoughts.”

“The past is reliable in my case.”

“It can also destroy your future,” Kurbi said, “unless you choose otherwise.”
He wants to destroy our future, and he doesn’t care how he has to live to do it
.

“The facts are undeniable,” the Herculean was saying. “The destruction of our home worlds, the hunting of my people after the war, the looting, the enslavement.…”

“We agree. This is true,” Kurbi said.

Gorgias was silent. Kurbi looked at the floor. “Your people were brilliant.…” He could feel the anger rising in himself as he spoke, and he knew that this was how the destroyers of the Cluster had felt — that nothing was possible with the Herculeans except to destroy them completely.

“Who are you, Kurbi?” Gorgias demanded.

“There are a few of us who don’t want what’s left of your civilization to perish.” The words rang falsely in his ears. How could he expect to convince Gorgias?

“Why should you care?”

“For the same reason that …” Kurbi spoke the words mechanically, feeling nothing.
I’ve got to make a better effort. I’ve got to get through
. He held out his hands. “Consider this, Gorgias — that this may be your last chance, that others will come if I fail.…”
I’m failing
,
I’m failing
. “Can you see that I feel what I say?”
How can you? I have nothing to say
.

“What is there for me in your world?”

“Sanity — happiness, perhaps.”
Sure
. “You’ve never lived with a whole culture around you.”
That’s better
. “Your people could become numerous again and repopulate the Cluster. It would take time, but it’s possible. We would help.”
I would help
.