The Outpost (35 page)

“Well, I suppose I can’t blame you for staying alive,” said Big Red.

“It wasn’t that hard,” admitted Barnes. “I didn’t have to fight anyone like, say, you.” He stared thoughtfully at Big Red. “I wonder how you’d have done?”

“Let’s be glad we’ll never have to find out,” said Big Red. “Now, how the hell do we get out of here?”

“The most direct way is straight up, but even if you loan me your screecher we’re going to be outnumbered by hundreds to one. I suppose the best way is to go back the way you came.”

“Right,” said Big Red. “We’d better get going. I had to kill a couple of guards. For all I know, they’re late calling in or reaching a checkpoint.”

“Do you know the way back?” asked Barnes. “We were chained and blindfolded when they brought us here. The only way out I know is up through the arena.”

“I’m pretty sure I can find it. I know it’s on a lower level, and there were only a couple of branches the whole way.”

“Okay, lead the way.”

Big Red tossed him a sonic pistol. “Here, take this.”

“Nice screecher,” said Barnes admiringly. “Beautifully weighted.”

“Believe it or not, I won it in a track meet.”

“Are you still in shape?”

“I try to keep fit. Why?”

“That wasn’t an academic question,” said Barnes. “I just heard some footsteps coming in our direction. Let’s get moving.”

Big Red broke into a trot, his long, loping stride eating up ground as he descended to the tunnel level and began retracing his steps. Backbreaker Barnes, panting heavily, his muscular body built for strength rather than speed, followed as best he could. When Big Red pulled too far ahead, he slowed down so as not to lose contact with Barnes.

After a mile they stopped and listened for sounds of pursuit.

“I think they gave up,” gasped Barnes.

“We’d better keep running anyway,” said Big Red. “They can always signal ahead to others.”

“How much farther have we got to go?”

“Maybe a mile and a half.”

“I’m beat,” said Barnes. “I can’t run that far.” Suddenly the sounds of footsteps and voices came to their ears. “They’re going to catch us anyway,” continued Barnes. “We might as well have it out right here.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Big Red.

“I’m undefeated. That’s why they let me live.” He took a fighting stance. “Besides, I
like
being the champion.”

“Have you lost your mind?” said Big Red. “They’re going to be here in another minute!”

“And they’ll find me standing over your body.”

Barnes dove for him, but Big Red was too quick. He sidestepped, and pushed Barnes head-first into a wall as he raced by. Barnes bellowed in pain and turned to face his opponent, but all he got for his trouble were two quick kicks, one in the groin, the other to his left knee. He fell to the floor, cursing.

“I
told
you I played murderball,” said Big Red.

The alien voices became louder.

“Help me up!” cried said Barnes, clutching his shattered kneecap. “They’re almost here!”

“Give them my regards, Champ,” said Big Red.

He started running again. He’d barely broken a sweat when he reached the safety of his ship and took off.

The Earth Mother and the Aliens

In a small interrogation room on Elizabeth of York, the sole moon of Henry VII, the Earth Mother faced a pair of aliens.

“Name?”

“The only name I answer to is the Earth Mother.”

“That is not the name on your passport.”

“I am not responsible for that,” she answered calmly.

“What is your purpose for coming here?”

“There’s a war. I’m not a warrior. I heard you had a hospital here. I want to help.”

“But the hospital is run by and for members of our race. Why do you not work at a human hospital?”

“There aren’t any in this system. You have either destroyed our Navy, or at least chased them to a system we control where they can get all the help they need.”

“Then why should we need any help at all?” asked one of the aliens.

“Because a small group of Men has taken up the battle, and you will find that, in their way, they are more formidable than the Navy.” She stared at the two aliens. “If you don’t need medical help yet, you soon will.”

“Why should we believe you?” asked the second alien.

“I am unarmed. I am in what we call late middle age, and I am fifty pounds overweight. I have high blood pressure and diabetes. Surely even
you
must realize that I pose no threat to you—and I
do
possess medical knowledge that may be unknown to you.”

“Are you a doctor among your own people?”

“No.”

“A nurse, then?”

“No. But in my prior profession, I was frequently called upon to heal the wounded.”

“Why didn’t you send them to a medic?”

“Our social structure would probably make no sense to you. Just believe me that there were valid reasons why they did not want anyone to know that they had patronized my business.”

The aliens exchanged knowing smiles. “Perhaps you are not as incomprehensible as you believe,” said the first one. “All right, Earth Mother. You may work in our hospital as a nurse.”

“But know that you will be under electronic surveillance at all times,” added the second.

“That will be perfectly acceptable,” said the Earth Mother, getting to her feet. “Which way do I go?”

One of the aliens got up. “I will show you.”

He led her to a small dressing room, waited while she donned the uncomfortable and ill-fitting blue-gray robes of an alien nurse, and then escorted her to a ward, where she was introduced to her superior.

Her first job was emptying and cleaning alien bedpans. As she collected them, she carefully studied the anatomy of the wounded alien soldiers. Later, in the nurses’ dormitory, she joined a few of her workmates in the group shower, and spent as much time scrutinizing them as they did her.
Yes,
she decided,
it should work just fine. A few days, a little gossip, maybe a little surreptitious observation, and I should know everything I need to know. We’re not all that different, your race and mine, and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t bring my non-medical expertise to the situation at hand. I mean, hell, we’ve already got a few empty wards filled with brand-new beds. Now all I have to do is figure how much to charge to fill them.
 

She looked out at the ward. An alien soldier, his foot blown off, his torso swathed in bandages, still managed to pinch a nurse as she walked by.

The Earth Mother smiled.
This is going to be even easier than I thought.

Argyle and the Aliens

“I’m approaching Henry V,” said Argyle. “I should make contact with the aliens any moment now.

“Have you gone crazy?” demanded Gravedigger Gaines’s voice on the subspace radio. “Most of their forces are on Henrys IV and V!”

“Well, there wouldn’t really be much sense going to Henry I, would there?” replied Argyle.

“Three-Gun Max is already on V, and I think Venus is on her way there. Leave the fighting to them and get your ass out of there.”

“Happily,” said Argyle. “I’m no fighter.”
 

“Then why aren’t you back at the Outpost?” said Gaines.

“They’re aliens.
I’m
an alien. They just might listen to me.”

“Idiot!” snapped Gaines. “You’re as much an alien to them as you are to us.”

Argyle frowned. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he admitted.

“Then maybe it’s time for you to
start
thinking, and get the hell out of the system.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I really think someone has to try reasoning with them.”

“The time for reasoning was over when they blew a hundred Navy ships out of the sky.” Gaines paused. “I’m going to have to break off communications with you. Even with a scrambled signal, you’re getting close enough to the planet for them to home in on you.”

“I’m not trying to hide my presence,” said Argyle. “There must be someone on the other side who will listen to reason.”

“Your giant computer listened to reason,” noted Gaines, “but it didn’t do either of you a hell of a lot of good, did it?”

“We’re not savages. Neither are they. Surely history is on our side.”

“History is usually on the side with the best weapons,” said Gaines. “Over and out.”

Argyle maintained his distance from the planet until the aliens signaled his ship.

“Identify yourself.”

“My name is Argyle. I’m a native of—”

“Your vessel, fool!”

“It’s a spaceship. What do you wish to know about it?”

“Registration. Point of origin. Duration of current voyage. Destination. Armaments.”

“I’m having my computer feed you all the data now.”

“What is your purpose for being in this system?”

“I was having a drink with my friends on Henry II,” said Argyle.

“Are you a human?”

“No.”

“Are you a member of a race allied with the Commonwealth?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Remain in orbit. Two of our fighter ships will approach you and escort you to the planet’s surface.”

“I will do as you request,” said Argyle. “Then I would like to speak to someone in charge.”

“That was an order, not a request.”

“Then I will do as you order,” Argyle corrected himself. “But I would still like to speak to someone in authority.”

There was no response, and a few minutes later two fighter ships showed up. They flanked him and herded him to the hastily-assembled spaceport.

Once on the ground he was escorted, at gunpoint, to an interrogation room, where the slightly bored alien bureaucrat was waiting for him.

“We have no record of an Argyle owning a ship with the registration number of RP1034CB.”

“That is because my true name is not Argyle. That is a name given to me by my human friends.”

“Why should a member of any other race have human friends?”

“They are an interesting race, not without aspects of nobility and compassion,” said Argyle.

The alien muttered an untranslatable sound.

“Anyway, to answer your question, my true name, and the name on the ship’s registration, is Quilbot Phylnx Quilbit.”

“And why are you here, Quilbot Phylnx Quilbit?”

“I have come to reason with you.”.”

“We’re very busy fighting a war. Why should we take the time to listen to you?”

“Because I am not a Man.”

“But you have obviously been contaminated by Men.”

“They do not wish this war.”

“That is hardly my concern,” said the alien.

“Whatever your grievances, I’m sure we can address them without resorting to war,” persisted Argyle. “There is ultimately no justification for two races killing each other.”

“Nonsense,” said the alien. “Do you know how many sentient beings and industries we’d put out of work if we were to stop the war just because a few bleeding hearts think we can talk out our grievances?”

“But there are peaceful means of settling your differences!”

“Peaceful, perhaps,” said the alien. “Glorious, no. And economically advantageous, never.”

“There is nothing glorious about death,” said Argyle.

“Why do
I
get all the pacifists?” muttered the alien. “I’ve put in my time. I don’t make waves. I deserve better.”

The alien sighed and pointed his pistol at Argyle’s head.

“You will not shoot me,” said Argyle confidently. “That would be irrational.”

“What is so very advantageous about being rational?” asked the alien, slipping off the safety device. “It simply makes you more predictable. That was the very first thing we learned in officer’s candidate school.”

“But I am your last hope!” insisted Argyle. “All the others are prepared to fight. Only I am willing to find an alternative.”

“Thank goodness for small favors,” sighed the alien. “For a moment I was afraid they were all like you.”

He fired the weapon, and Man’s last best hope for peace—indeed, its only one—fell dead upon the floor.

The Cyborg de Milo and the Aliens

The Cyborg de Milo crept silently down the tortuously-twisting streets of the ancient metropolis on Henry V. The city had been built ten millennia ago by a long-vanished race, and had stood empty until the aliens set up their headquarters there after decimating the Navy.

She was tempted to use the torch that had been embedded in one of her fingers, but torches attracted attention, and Men with torches weren’t supposed to be here, so she resisted the temptation.

The Cyborg had no particular destination in mind, just a general pattern of destruction. But it couldn’t begin too soon. There were at least five hundred aliens stationed in the city, and she didn’t want to broadcast her presence until she lowered the odds a bit.

She had hoped to keep to the alleyways, but there weren’t any. Her next notion was to go underground and make her way via the sewer system, but she had no map of it, and she didn’t relish trying to find her way with no maps and no landmarks. So, keeping as near to the irregular structures as she could, she continued stalking silently among the ancient buildings.

She was fast approaching a very sharp corner, and suddenly she could hear voices—
alien
voices—somewhere up ahead of her.

The voices grew clearer and louder, until she estimated that they were no more than thirty yards from the corner. Her first inclination was to duck into the doorway of the nearest building until they passed. Then she discovered that it didn’t
have
a doorway. She backtracked a few steps, found a small alcove between the building and the one she had just passed, and darted into it. Then she crouched down and waited.

Five aliens in military uniforms suddenly came into view as they turned the corner. One of them had an extremely high-pitched voice, but she couldn’t discern any other difference among them.

She looked up and down the street, made sure no one else was around, then pointed two of her deadly fingers at the group. Three fell to the laser, two to the incredibly powerful beam of solid sound.

She ducked back into the shadows and squatted down, waiting to see if anyone had spotted the carnage. Before long her calves and thighs began cramping up, and she carefully leaned forward, momentarily assuming the position of a runner in the starting blocks, alternately stretching each leg out behind her.