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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Victory, by Lester del Rey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Victory
+
+Author: Lester del Rey
+
+Illustrator: Rogers
+
+Release Date: January 7, 2008 [EBook #24196]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: This e-text was produced from Astounding Science
+Fiction, August, 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
+that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+
+
+VICTORY
+
+
+_It seemed Earth was a rich, and undefended planet in a warring,
+hating galaxy. Things can be deceptive though; children playing
+can be quite rough--but that ain't war, friend!_
+
+
+BY LESTER del REY
+
+Illustrated by Rogers
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+From above came the sound of men singing. Captain Duke O'Neill stopped
+clipping his heavy black beard to listen. It had been a long time since
+he'd heard such a sound--longer than the time since he'd last had a
+bath or seen a woman. It had never been the singing type of war. Yet
+now even the high tenor of old Teroini, who lay on a pad with neither
+legs nor arms, was mixed into the chorus. It could mean only one thing!
+
+As if to confirm his thoughts, Burke Thompson hobbled past the cabin,
+stopping just long enough to shout. "Duke, we're home! They've sighted
+Meloa!"
+
+"Thanks," Duke called after him, but the man was hobbling out of sight,
+eager to carry the good news to others.
+
+Fourteen years, Duke thought as he dragged out his hoarded bottle of
+water and began shaving. Five since he'd seen Ronda on his last leave.
+Now the battered old wreck that was left of the flagship was less than
+an hour from home base, and the two other survivors of the original
+fleet of eight hundred were limping along behind. Three out of eight
+hundred--but they'd won! Meloa had her victory.
+
+And far away, Earth could rest in unearned safety for a while.
+
+Duke grimaced bitterly. It was no time to think of Earth now. He
+shucked off his patched and filthy clothes and reached for the dress
+grays he had laid out in advance; at least they were still in good
+condition, almost unused. He dressed slowly, savoring the luxury of
+clean clothes. The buttons gave him trouble; his left hand looked and
+behaved almost like a real one, but in the three years since he got it,
+there had been no chance to handle buttons.
+
+Then he mastered the trick and stepped back to study the final results.
+He didn't look bad. Maybe a little gaunt and in need of a good haircut.
+But his face hadn't aged as much as he had thought. The worst part was
+the pasty white where his beard had covered his face, but a few days
+under Meloa's sun would fix that. Maybe he could spend a month with
+Ronda at a beach. He still had most of his share of his salary--nearly
+a quarter million Meloan credits; even if the rumors of inflation were
+true, that should be enough.
+
+He stared at his few possessions, then shrugged and left them. He
+headed up the officers' lift toward the control room, where he could
+see Meloa swim into view and later see the homeport of Kordule as they
+landed.
+
+The pilot and navigator were replacements, sent out to bring the old
+ship home, and their faces showed none of the jubilation of the crew.
+They nodded at him as he entered, staring toward the screens without
+expression. Aside from the blueness of their skins and the complete
+absence of hair, they looked almost human, and Duke had long since
+stopped thinking of them as anything else.
+
+"How long?" he asked.
+
+The pilot shrugged. "Half an hour, captain. We're too low on fuel to
+wait for clearance, even if control is working. Don't worry. There'll
+be plenty of time to catch the next ship to Earth."
+
+"Earth?" Duke glowered at him, suspecting a joke, but there was no
+humor on the blue face. "I'm not going back!" Then he frowned. "What's
+an Earth ship doing on Meloa?"
+
+The navigator exchanged a surprised look with the pilot, and nodded as
+if some signal had passed between them. His voice was as devoid of
+expression as his face. "Earth resumed communication with us the day
+the truce was signed," he answered. He paused, studying Duke. "They're
+giving free passage back to Earth to all terran veterans, captain."
+
+Nice of them, Duke thought. They were willing to let the men who'd
+survived come back, just as they hadn't forbidden anyone to go. Very
+nice! They could keep their world--and all the other coward planets
+like them! When the humanoid world of Meloa had been attacked by the
+insectile monsters from Throm, Earth could have ended the invasion in a
+year, as those with eyes to see had urged her. But she hadn't chosen to
+do so. Instead, she had stepped back on her high retreat of neutrality,
+and let the Throm aliens do as they liked. It wasn't the first time
+she'd acted like that, either.
+
+With more than half of the inhabited planets occupied by various
+monsters, it seemed obvious that the humanoid planets had to make a
+common stand. If Meloa fell, it would be an alien stepping stone that
+could lead back eventually to Earth itself. And once the monsters
+realized that Earth was unwilling to fight, her vast resources would no
+longer scare them--she'd be only a rich plum, ripe for the plucking.
+
+When Duke had been one of the first to volunteer for Meloa, he had
+never realized his home world could refuse to join the battle. He'd
+believed in Earth and humanity then. He'd waited through all the grim
+days when it seemed Throm must win--when the absence of replacements
+proved the communiques from Meloa to be nothing but hopeful lies. But
+there had been no help. Earth's neutrality remained unshaken.
+
+And now, after fourteen years in battle hell, helping to fight off a
+three-planet system of monsters that might have swarmed against all the
+humanoid races, Earth was willing to forgive him and take him back to
+the shame of his birthright!
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+"I'm staying," he said flatly. "Unless you Meloans want to kick me out
+now?"
+
+The pilot swung around, dropping a quick hand on his shoulder.
+"Captain," he said, "that isn't something to joke about. We won't
+forget that there would be no Meloa today without men like you. But we
+can't ask you to stay. Things have changed--insanely. The news we sent
+to the fleet was pure propaganda!"
+
+"We guessed that," Duke told him. "We knew the Throm ships. And when
+the dispatches reported all those raids without any getting through, we
+stopped reading them. How many did penetrate, anyhow?"
+
+"Thirty-one full raids," the navigator said woodenly. "Thirty-one in
+the last four months!"
+
+"_Thirty-one!_ What happened to the home fleet?"
+
+"We broke it up and sent it out for your replacements," the pilot
+answered dully. "It was the only chance we had to win."
+
+Duke swallowed the idea slowly. He couldn't picture a planet giving up
+its last protection for a desperate effort to end the war on purely
+offensive drive. Three billion people watching the home fleet take off,
+knowing the skies were open for all the hell that a savage enemy could
+send! On Earth, the World Senate hadn't permitted the building of one
+battleship, for fear of reprisal.
+
+He swung to face the ports, avoiding the expression on the faces of the
+two Meloans. He'd felt something of the same on his own face when he'd
+first inspected Throm. But it couldn't be that bad on Meloa; she'd won
+her hard-earned victory!
+
+They were entering the atmosphere now, staggering down on misfiring
+jets. The whole planet seemed to be covered with a gray-yellow haze
+that spoke of countless tons of blast dust in the air. From below, Duke
+heard the men beginning to move toward the big entrance lock, unable to
+wait for the landing. But they were no longer his responsibility. He'd
+given up his command before embarking.
+
+The ship came down, threatening to tilt every second, and the pilot was
+sweating and swearing. The haze began to clear as they neared the
+ground, but the ports were too high for Duke to see anything but the
+underside of the thick clouds. He stood up and headed for the lift,
+bracing himself as the ship pitched.
+
+Suddenly there was a sickening jar and the blast cut off. The ship
+groaned and seemed to twist, then was still. It was the worst landing
+Duke had known, but they were obviously down. A second later he heard
+the port screech open and the thump of the landing ramp.
+
+The singing of the men had picked up into a rough marching beat. Now
+abruptly it wavered. For a moment, a few voices continued, and then
+died away, like a record running down. There was a mutter of voices,
+followed by shouts that must have been the relief officers, taking
+over. Duke was nearly to the port before he heard the slow, doubtful
+sound of steps moving down the ramp. By the time he reached it, the
+last of the men was just leaving. He stopped, staring at the great port
+city of Kordule.
+
+Most of the port was gone. Where the hangars and repair docks had been,
+a crater bored into the earth, still smoking faintly. A lone girder
+projected above it, to mark the former great control building, and a
+Meloan skeleton was transfixed on it near the top. It shattered to
+pieces as he looked and began dropping, probably from the delayed
+tremor of their landing.
+
+Even the section their ship stood on was part of the crater, he saw,
+with an Earth bulldozer working on it. There was room for no more than
+ten ships now. Two of the berths were occupied by fat Earth ships,
+sleek and well kept. Three others held the pitted, warped hulks of
+Meloan battleships. There were no native freighters, and no sign of
+tending equipment or hangars.
+
+The pilot had come up behind him, following his gaze. Now the man
+nodded. "That's it, captain. Most cities are worse. Kordule escaped the
+blasts until our rocket cannon failed. Got any script on you?" At
+Duke's nod, he pointed. "Better exchange it at the booth, before the
+rate gets worse. Take Earth dollars. Our silver's no good."
+
+He held out a hand, and Duke shook it. "Good luck, captain," he said,
+and swung back into the ship.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+_
+Mercifully, most of Kordule was blanketed by the dust fog. There was
+the beginning of a series of monstrous craters where men had begun
+rebuilding underground, the ruined landing field, and a section of what
+had been the great business district. Now it was only a field of
+rubble, with bits of windowless walls leading up to a crazy tangle of
+twisted girders. Only memory could locate where the major streets had
+been. Over everything lay the green wash of _incandite_, and the wind
+carried the smell of a charnel house. There was no sign of the
+apartment where he and Ronda had lived.
+
+He started down the ramp at last, seeing for the first time the motley
+crew that had come out to meet the heroes of the battle of Throm. They
+had spotted him already, however, and some were deserting the men at
+the sight of his officer's uniform. Their cries mingled into an insane,
+whining babble in his ears.
+
+"... Just a scrap for an old man, general ... three children at home
+starving ... fought under Jones, captain ... cigarette?"
+
+It was a sea of clutching hands, ragged bodies with scrawny arms and
+bloated stomachs, trembling and writhing in its eagerness to get to him
+first. Then as one of the temporary officers swung back with a couple
+of field attendants, it broke apart to let him pass, its gaze riveted
+on him as he stumbled between the lines.
+
+He spotted a billboard one man was wearing, and his eyes focused
+sharply on it. "Honest Feroiya," it announced. "Credit exchange. Best
+rates in all Kordule." Below that, chalked into a black square, was the
+important part: "2,345 credits the dollar."
+
+Duke shook his head but the sign did not change. A quarter million
+credits for a hundred dollars. And he'd thought--
+
+"Help a poor old widow." A trembling hand plucked at his sleeve, and he
+swung to face a woman in worse rags than the others, her eyes dull and
+unfocused, her lips mouthing the words only by habit. "Help the widow
+of General Dayole!"
+
+He gasped as he recognized her. Five years before, he'd danced with her
+at a party given by Dayole--danced and agreed that the war was ruining
+them and that it couldn't get worse.
+
+He reached into his pocket, before remembering the worthlessness of his
+bills. But there was half a pack of the wretched cigarettes issued the
+men. He tossed them to her and fled, while the other beggars scrambled
+toward her.
+
+He walked woodenly across the leprous field, skirting away from the
+Earth ships, toward a collection of tents and tin huts that had
+swallowed the other veterans. Then he stopped and cursed to himself as
+a motorcycle sprang into life near the Earth freighters and came toward
+him. Naturally, they'd spotted his hair and skin color.
+
+The well-fed, smooth-faced young man swung the machine beside him.
+"Captain O'Neill?" he asked, but his voice indicated that he was
+already certain. "Hop in, sir. Director Flannery has been looking
+forward to meeting you!"
+
+Duke went steadily on, not varying his steps. The machine paced him
+uncertainly. "Director Flannery of Earth Foreign Office, Captain
+O'Neill. He requests your presence," he shouted over the purr of his
+machine. He started to swing ahead of the marching man.
+
+Duke kept his eyes on his goal. When his steady steps almost brought
+him against the cycle, it roared out of his way. He could hear it
+behind him as he walked, but it faded.
+
+There was only the sight and smell of Kordule ahead of him.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Senators were already filing through the Presidium as Edmonds of South
+Africa came out of his office with Daugherty of the Foreign Office. The
+youngest senator stopped beside the great bronze doors, studying the
+situation. Then he sighed in relief. "It's all right," he told
+Daugherty. "Premier Lesseur's presiding."
+
+He hadn't been sure the premier's words were a full promise before. And
+while he hadn't been too worried, it was good to see that the doubtful
+vice-premier wouldn't be presiding.
+
+"It better be all right," the diplomat said. "Otherwise, it's my neck.
+Cathay's counting on Earth to help against the Kloomirians, and if
+Director Flannery ever finds I committed us--"
+
+Edmonds studied the seats that were filling, and nodded with more
+confidence as he saw that most of the senators on whom he counted were
+there. "I've got enough votes, as I told you. And with Lesseur
+presiding, the opposition won't get far with parliamentary tricks
+against me. This time, Earth's going to act."
+
+Daugherty grunted, obviously still worried, and headed up the steps to
+the reserved Visitors' Gallery, while Edmonds moved to his seat in the
+assembly room. Today he didn't even mind the fact that it was back in
+the section reserved for the newest members--the unknowns and
+unimportants, from the way the press treated them. He would be neither
+unknown nor unimportant, once his bill was passed, and his brief
+experience would only add to the miracle he was working.
+
+Looking back on his efforts, he found the results something of a
+miracle to himself. It had taken two years of vote-swapping, of careful
+propaganda, and of compromise with his principles. That business of
+voting for the combined Throm-Meloa Aid Bill had been a bitter thing;
+but old Harding was scared sick of antagonizing the aliens by seeming
+partiality, and Edmonds' switch was the step needed to start the
+softening up.
+
+At that, he'd been lucky. In spite of what he'd learned of the
+manipulation of sociological relationships, in spite of the long
+preparation in advertising dynamics and affective psychology, he
+couldn't have made it if Cathay hadn't been a human colony!
+
+Now, though, Lesseur was calling the chamber to order. The senators
+quieted quickly, and there was almost complete silence as the old man
+picked up the paper before him.
+
+"The Senate will consider Resolution 1843 today," Lesseur said quietly.
+"_A Resolution that Earth shall grant assistance to the Colony of
+Cathay in the event of any aggressive alien act__, proposed by Sir
+Alfred Edmonds. Since the required time for deliberation has elapsed,
+the chair will admit discussion on this resolution. Senator Edmonds!"
+
+Edmonds was on his feet, and every face turned to him. The spotlight
+came down on him, blinding him to the others. He picked up the
+microphone, polishing the words in his mind. The vote might already be
+decided, but the papers would still print what he said now! And those
+words could mean his chance to work his way up through the Committee of
+Foreign Affairs and perhaps on to becoming Earth's youngest premier.
+
+It might even mean more. Once Earth shook off her lethargy and moved to
+her rightful position of power and strength among the humanoid worlds,
+anything could happen. There was the Outer Federation being formed
+among the frontier worlds and the nucleus of close relations with
+hundreds of planets. Some day there might be the position of premier of
+a true Interstellar Congress!
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Edmonds began quietly, listening to his voice roll smoothly from the
+speakers, giving the long history of Earth and her rise to a position
+as the richest and most respected of planets. He retold the story of
+how she had been the first to discover the interstellar drive, and how
+it had inevitably spread. He touched on the envy of the alien worlds,
+and the friendship of the humanoid planets that had enabled Earth to
+found her dozen distant colonies. He couldn't wisely discuss her
+cowardice and timidity in avoiding her responsibilities to help her
+friends; but there was another approach.
+
+"In the forefront of every battle against alien aggression," he
+declaimed proudly, "have been men from Earth. Millions of our young men
+have fought gloriously and died gladly to protect the human--and
+humanoid--civilizations from whatever forms of life have menaced them.
+Djamboula led the forces of Hera against Clovis, just as Captain
+O'Neill so recently directed the final battle that saved Meloa from the
+hordes of Throm. In our own ranks, we have a man who spent eight long
+and perilous years in such a gallant struggle to save a world for
+humanoid decency. Senator Harding--"
+
+From the darkened sea of faces, a voice suddenly sounded. "Will the
+senator yield?" It was the deep baritone of Harding.
+
+Edmonds frowned in irritation, but nodded. A few words of confirmation
+on his point from Harding couldn't hurt. "I yield to the senator from
+Dixie," he answered.
+
+The spotlight shifted as Harding got slowly to his feet, making a white
+halo of his hair. He did not look at Edmonds, but turned to face
+Lesseur.
+
+"Mr. Chairman," he said, "I move that Resolution 1843 be tabled!"
+
+"Second!" The light shifted to another man, but Edmonds had no time to
+see who it was as he stood staring open-mouthed at Harding.
+
+He shouted for the chair's attention, but Lesseur brought the gavel
+down sharply once, and his voice rang over the speakers. "It has been
+moved and seconded that Resolution 1843 be tabled. The senators will
+now vote."
+
+Edmonds stood frozen as the voting began. Then he dropped back hastily
+to press the button that would turn the square bearing his number a
+negative red. He saw his light flash on, while other squares were
+lighting. When the voting was finished, there were three such red
+squares in a nearly solid panel of green.
+
+"The resolution is tabled," Lesseur announced needlessly.
+
+Harding stood up and began moving towards the rear where Edmonds sat.
+The junior senator was too stunned for thought. Dimly he heard
+something about regrets and explanations, but the words had no meaning.
+He felt Harding help him to his feet and begin to guide him toward the
+door, where someone had already brought a shocked, white-faced
+Daugherty.
+
+It was then he thought of Cathay, and what his ambition and Earth's
+ultimate deceit and cowardice would mean to the millions there.
+
+[Illustration: RONDA]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+A week of the dust-filled air of Meloa had left its mark on Captain
+Duke O'Neill. It had spread filth over his uniform, added another year
+to his face, and made waking each morning a dry-throated torture. Now
+he stopped at the entrance to the ship where he had been reassigned a
+berth for the night shift. An attendant handed him a small bottle,
+three biscuits, and a magazine. He tasted the chemically purified water
+sickly, stuffed the three ersatz biscuits into his pocket, and moved
+down the ramp, staring at the magazine.
+
+It was from Earth, of course, since no printing was being done yet on
+Meloa. It must have come in on one of the three big Earth freighters
+he'd heard land during the night. Tucked into it was another of the
+brief notes he'd been receiving: "Director Flannery will be pleased to
+call on Captain O'Neill at the captain's convenience."
+
+He shredded the note as he went across the field; he started to do the
+same with the news magazine, until the headlines caught his attention.
+
+Most of the news meant nothing to him. But he skimmed the article on
+the eleventh planet to join the Outer Federation; the writer was
+obviously biased against the organization, but Duke nodded approvingly.
+At least someone was doing something. He saw that Cathay was in for
+trouble. Earth was living up to her old form! Then he shoved the
+magazine into his pocket and trudged on toward the veteran's
+reassignment headquarters.
+
+Machinery was being moved from the Earth freighters, and Duke swore
+again. Five billion Earthmen would read of their "generosity" to Meloa,
+and any guilt they felt for their desertion would vanish in a smug
+satisfaction at their charity. Smugness was easy in a world without
+dust or carrion smell or craters that had been factories.
+
+There were only a few Meloans in the crude tent that served as their
+headquarters. Duke went back toward the cubbyhole where a thin, haggard
+man sat on a broken block behind a makeshift desk.
+
+The hairless blue head shook slowly while the man's eyes dropped
+hungrily to the paper in Duke's pocket and away again guiltily. "No
+work, Captain O'Neill. Unless you can operate some of those Earth
+machines we're getting?"
+
+Duke grimaced, passing the magazine over to hands that trembled as they
+took it. His education was in ultra-literary creative writing, his
+experience in war. And here, where there was the whole task of
+rebuilding a planet to be done, the ruin of tools and power made what
+could be done too little for even the few who were left. There was no
+grain to reap or wood to cut after the killing gas from Throm had
+ruined vegetation; there were no workable mines where all had been
+blasted closed. Transportation was gone. And the economy had passed
+beyond hand tools, leaving too few of those. Even whole men were idle,
+and his artificial hand could never replace a real one for carrying
+rubble.
+
+"Director Flannery has been asking for you again," the man told him.
+
+Duke ignored it. "What about my wife?"
+
+The Meloan frowned, reaching for a soiled scrap of paper. "We may have
+something. One of her former friends thinks she was near this address.
+We'll send someone out to investigate, if you wish, captain; but it's
+still pretty uncertain."
+
+"I'll go myself," Duke said harshly. He picked up the paper,
+recognizing the location as one that had been in the outskirts.
+
+The man behind the desk shook his head doubtfully. Then he shrugged,
+and reached behind him for a small automatic. "Better take this--and
+watch your step! There are two bullets left."
+
+Duke nodded his thanks and turned away, dropping the gun into his
+pocket. Behind him he heard a long sigh and the rustle of a magazine
+being opened quickly.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+It was a long walk. At first, he traced his way through streets that
+had been partially blasted clear. After the first mile, however, he was
+forced to hunt around or over the litter and wreckage, picking the way
+from high spot to high spot. There were people about, rooting through
+the debris, or patrolling in groups. He drew the automatic and carried
+it in his hand, in plain sight. Some stared at him and some ignored
+him, but none came too close.
+
+Once he heard shouting and a group ran across his path, chasing a small
+rodent. He heard a wild tumult begin, minutes later. When he passed the
+spot where they had stopped, a fight was going on, apparently over the
+kill.
+
+At noon he stopped to drink sparingly of his water and eat one of the
+incredibly bad biscuits. What food there was available or which could
+be received from the Earth freighters was being mixed into them, but it
+wasn't enough. The workers got a little more, and occasionally someone
+found a few cans under the rubble. The penalty for not turning such
+food in was revocation of all food allotment, but there was a small
+black market where unidentified cans could be bought for five Earth
+dollars, and some found its way there. The same black market sold the
+few remaining cigarettes at twice that amount each.
+
+It was beginning to thunder to the north as he stood up and went
+wearily on, and the haze was thickening. He tried to hurry, uncertain
+of how dark it would get. If he got caught now, he'd never be able to
+return before night. He stumbled on a broken street sign, decoding what
+was left of it, and considered. Then he sighed in relief. As he
+remembered it, he was almost there.
+
+The buildings had been lower here, and the rubble was thinner. There
+seemed to be more people about, judging by the traces of smoke that
+drifted out of holes or through glassless windows. He saw none outside,
+however.
+
+He was considering trying one of the places from which smoke was coming
+when he saw the little boy five hundred feet ahead. He started forward,
+but the kid popped into what must have been a cellar once. Duke
+stopped, calling quietly.
+
+This time it was a girl of about sixteen who appeared. She sidled
+closer, her eyes fixed on his hair. Her voice piped out suddenly,
+scared and desperate. "You lonesome, Earthman?" Under the fright, it
+was a grotesque attempt at coquetry. She edged nearer, staring at him.
+"I won't roll you, honest!"
+
+"All I want is information," he told her thickly. "I'm looking for a
+woman named Ronda--Ronda O'Neill. She was my wife."
+
+The girl considered, shaking her head. Her eyes grew wider as he pulled
+out a green Earth bill, but she didn't move. Then, as he added the two
+remaining biscuits, she nodded quickly, motioning him forward. "Mom
+might know," she said.
+
+She ran ahead, and soon an older woman shuffled up the broken steps. In
+her arms was a baby, dead or in a coma, and she rocked it slowly,
+moaning softly as she listened to his questions. She grunted finally,
+and reached out for the reward. Shuffling ahead of him, she went up the
+rubble-littered street and around a corner, to point. "Go in," she
+said. "Ronda'll be back."
+
+Duke shoved the crude door back and stepped into what was left of a
+foyer in a cheap apartment house. The back had been blasted away, but
+the falling building had sealed over one corner, covering it from most
+of the weather. Light came from the shattered window, showing a scrap
+of blanket laid out on the floor near a few possessions. At first,
+nothing identified the resident in any way, and he wondered if it were
+a trap. Then he bent over a broken bracelet, and his breath caught
+sharply. The catch still worked, and a faded miniature of him was
+inside the little holder. Ronda's!
+
+Duke dropped onto the blanket, trying to imagine what Ronda would be
+like, and to picture the reunion. But the present circumstances
+wouldn't fit into anything he could imagine. He could only remember the
+bravely smiling girl who had seen him off five years before.
+
+He heard a babble of voices outside, but he didn't look out. The walk
+had exhausted him. Hard as the bed was, it was better than standing up.
+Anyhow, if Ronda came back, he was pretty sure she would be warned of
+his presence.
+
+He slept fitfully, awakened by the smells and sounds from outside. Once
+he thought someone looked in, but he couldn't be sure. He turned over,
+almost decided to investigate, and dozed off again.
+
+It was the hoarse sound of breathing and a soft shuffle that wakened
+him that time. His senses jarred out of slumber with a feeling of
+wrongness that reacted in instant caution. He let his eyes slit open,
+relieved to find there was still light.
+
+Between him and the door, a figure was creeping up on hands and knees.
+The rags of clothes indicated it was a woman and the knife in one hand
+spelled murder!
+
+Duke snapped himself upright to a sitting position, his hand darting
+for the gun in his pocket. A low shriek came from the woman, and she
+lunged forward, the knife rising. There was no time for the gun. He
+caught her wrist, twisting savagely. She scratched and writhed, but the
+knife spun from her grasp. With a moan, she collapsed across his knees.
+
+He turned her face up, staring at it unbelievingly. "Ronda!"
+
+Bloated and stained, lined with fear, it still bore a faint resemblance
+to the girl he had known. Now a fleeting look of cunning crossed her
+face briefly, to be replaced with an attempt at dawning recognition.
+"Duke!" She gasped it, then made a sound that might have been meant for
+joy. She stumbled to her knees, reaching out to him. But her eyes
+swiveled briefly toward the knife. "Duke, it's you!"
+
+He pushed her back and reached for the knife. He was sure she'd known
+who it was--had probably been the one who awakened him by looking in
+through the broken window. "Why'd you try to kill me, Ronda? You saw
+who it was. If you needed money, you know I'd give you anything I had.
+Why?"
+
+"Not for money." She twisted from him and slumped limply against a
+broken wall. Tears came into her eyes. This time the catch in her voice
+was real. "I know ... I know, Duke. And I wanted to see you, to talk to
+you, too." She shook her head slowly. "What can I do with money? I
+wanted to wake you up like old times. But Mrs. Kalaufa--she led you
+here--she said--"
+
+He waited, but she didn't finish. She traced a pattern on the dust of
+the floor, before looking up again. "You've never been really hungry!
+Not that hungry! You wouldn't understand."
+
+"Even with the dole, you can't starve that much in the time since
+Kordule was bombed," he protested. He gagged as he thought of the
+meaning he'd guessed from her words, expecting her to deny it.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+She shrugged. "In ten years, you can do anything. Oh, sure, you came
+back on leave and we lived high. Everything was fine here, wasn't it?
+Sure it was, for you. They briefed me on where I should take you, so
+there'd be good food ready. They kept a few places going for the men
+who came back on leave. We couldn't ruin your morale!"
+
+She laughed weakly, and let the sound die away slowly. "How do you
+think we sent out the food and supplies for the fleet the last three
+years, after the blockade on our supplies from friendly worlds? Why do
+you think there was no more leave for you? Because they didn't think
+you brave soldiers could stand just seeing how the rest of us lived!
+And you think you had it tough! Watch the sky for the enemy while your
+stomach hopes for the sound that might be a rat. Hide three cans of
+food you'll be shot for hoarding--because there is nothing else
+important in the world. And then have a man steal them from you when
+the raids come! What does a soldier know of war?"
+
+The sickness inside him grew into a knot, but he still couldn't fully
+believe what she was saying. "But cannibalism--"
+
+"No." She shook her head with a faint trace of his own disgust. "No,
+Duke. Mrs. Kalaufa told me ... you're not really the same race--Not as
+close as you are to an Earth animal, and you don't call that
+cannibalism. Nobody on Meloa has ever been a cannibal--yet! How much
+money do you have, Duke?"
+
+He took it out and handed it to her. She counted it mechanically and
+handed it back. "Not enough. You can't take me away when you leave
+here."
+
+"I'm not leaving," he told her. He dropped the money back on the
+blanket beside her.
+
+She stared at him for a moment and then pulled herself up to her feet,
+moving toward the door. "Good-by, Duke. And get off Meloa. You can't
+help us any more. And I don't want you here when I get desperate enough
+to remember you might take me back. I like you too much for that, even
+now."
+
+He took a step toward her, and she ducked.
+
+"Get out!" She screamed it at him. "Do you think I can stand looking at
+you without drooling any longer? Do you want me to call Mrs. Kalaufa
+for help?"
+
+Through the open door, he saw Mrs. Kalaufa across the street, still
+cradling the child. As the door slammed shut behind him, the woman
+screamed, either as a summons or from fear that he'd seek revenge on
+her. He saw other heads appear, with frantic eyes that stared sullenly
+at the gun he carried. He stumbled down the street, where rain was
+beginning to fall, conscious that it would be night before he got back
+to the port. He no longer cared.
+
+There was no place for him here, he now saw. He was still an Earthman,
+and Earthmen were always treated as a race apart somehow. He didn't
+belong. Nor could he go back to a life on Earth. But there were still
+the recruiting stations there; so long as war existed, there had to be
+such stations. He headed for the fat ships of Earth that squatted
+complacently on the wrecked port.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Prince Queeth of Sugfarth had left the royal belt behind, and only a
+plain band encircled his round little body as he trotted along, his
+four legs making almost no sound. His double pair of thin arms and the
+bird-like head on his long neck bobbled excitedly in time to his steps.
+Once he stopped to glance across the black stone buildings of the city
+as they shone in the dull red of the sun, toward the hill where his
+father's palace was lighted brightly for the benefit of his Earth
+guests. Queeth touched his ears together ceremoniously and then trotted
+on, until he came to the back door of his group's gymnasium. He
+whistled the code word and the door opened automatically.
+
+The whole group was assembled, though it was past sleep week for most
+of them. Their ears clicked together, but they waited silently as he
+curled himself up in the official box. Then Krhal, the merchant
+viscount, whistled questioningly. "This will have to be important,
+Queeth."
+
+The prince bobbed his ears emphatically. "It is. My father's guests
+have all the news, and I learned everything. It won't be as long as we
+thought." He paused, before delivering the big news. "The bipeds of
+Kloomiria are going to attack Cathay. There'll be official war there
+within two weeks!"
+
+He saw them exchanging hasty signals, but again it was Krhal who voiced
+their question. "And you think that is important, Queeth? What does it
+offer us? Cathay is a human colony. Earth will have to declare war with
+her. And with Earth's wealth, it will be over before we could arrive."
+
+"Earth has already passed a resolution that neutrality will apply to
+colonies as well as to other planets!"
+
+This time the whistles were sharper. Krhal had difficulty believing it
+at first. "So Earth really is afraid to fight? That must mean those
+rumors that she has no fleet are true. Our ancestors thought so, and
+even planned to attack her, before the humanoids defeated us. The
+ancestor king believed that even a single ship fully armed might
+conquer her."
+
+"It could be," Queeth admitted. "But do you agree that this is the news
+for which we've waited so long?"
+
+There was a quick flutter of cars. "It's our duty," Krhal agreed. "In a
+war between Cathay and Kloomiria, we can't remain neutral if we're ever
+to serve our friends. Well, the ship is ready!"
+
+That came as a surprise to Queeth. He knew the plans were well along,
+but not that they were completed. As merchant viscount, and
+second-degree adult, Krhal was entitled to a tenth of his father's
+interests. He'd chosen the biggest freighter and the balance in fluid
+assets, to the pleasure of his father--who believed he was planning an
+honorable career of exploring.
+
+"The conversion completed?" Queeth asked. "But the planet bombs--!"
+
+"Earth supplied them on the last shipment. I explained on the order
+that I was going to search uninhabited planets for minerals."
+
+Queeth counted the group again, and was satisfied. There were enough.
+With a ship of that size, fully staffed and armed, they would be a
+welcome addition to any fleet. They might be enough to tip the balance
+for victory, in fact. And while Cathay and Kloomiria lay a long way on
+the other side of Earth's system, the drives were fast enough to cover
+it in two weeks.
+
+"Does your father know?" Krhal asked.
+
+Queeth smirked. "Would you tell him? He still believes along with the
+Earth ambassador that the warrior strain was ruined among our people
+when we lost the war with the humanoids."
+
+"Maybe it was," Krhal said doubtfully. "In four generations, it could
+evolve again. And there are the books and traditions from which we
+trained. If even a timid race such as those of Earth can produce
+warriors like O'Neill--a mere poet--why can't the Sugfarth do better?
+Particularly when Earth rebuilt factories for us to start our
+shipbuilding anew."
+
+"Then we join the war," the prince decided.
+
+There was a series of assent signals from the group.
+
+"Tonight," he suggested, and again there was only assent.
+
+Krhal stood up, setting the course for the others. When the last had
+risen, Queeth uncurled himself and rose from the box. "We'll have to
+pass near Earth," he suggested as they filed out toward the hangars
+where Krhal kept his ship. "Maybe we should show our intentions there!"
+
+There was a sudden whistle of surprise. Then the assent was mounting
+wildly. Queeth trotted ahead toward the warship, making his attack
+plans over again as he realized he was a born leader who could command
+such enthusiasm. He had been doubtful before, in spite of his study of
+elementary statistical treatment of relationships.
+
+The lights in the palace showed that the Earth guests were still
+celebrating as the great, heavily-laden warship blasted up and headed
+toward Earth.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Duke O'Neill found a corner of the lounge where no Earthman was near
+and dropped down with the magazine and papers, trying to catch up on
+the currents of the universe as they affected the six hundred connected
+worlds. Most of the articles related to Earth alone, and he skipped
+them. He found one on the set-up of the Outer Federation finally. The
+humanoid planets there were in a pocket of alien worlds, and union had
+been almost automatic. It was still loose, but it seemed to have sound
+enough a basis.
+
+If Earth had been willing to come out of its shell and risk some of its
+fat trading profits, there could have been an even stronger union that
+would have driven war-like thoughts out of the minds of all the aliens.
+
+Instead, she seemed to be equally interested in building up her
+potential enemies and ruining her friends. Duke had watched a showing
+of new films on the work being done on Throm the night before, and he
+was still sick from it. Throm had lost the war, but by a military
+defeat, not by thirty-one unprotected raids on all her surface. She
+still had landing fields equipped for Earth ships, and the big
+freighters were dropping down regularly, spewing out foods, equipment
+and even heavy machinery for her rebuilding. Throm was already on the
+road back. Meloa had to wait until she could pull herself up enough to
+build fields.
+
+Duke turned his eyes to the port. The ship had stopped at Clovis on the
+way back to Earth. From where he sat, he could see almost Earth-like
+skyscrapers stretching up in a great city. The landing field was huge,
+and there were rows on rows of factories building more of the
+freighters that stubbed the field.
+
+It seemed impossible, when he remembered that only forty years had
+passed since Djamboula's suicide raid had finally defeated the fungoid
+creatures of the planet and since the survivors' vows to repay all
+Earthmen for their defeat. They were a prolific race, of course--but
+without help from Earth, the factories would be shacks and the rockets
+and high-drive ships would be only memories.
+
+He wondered how many were cursing their ancestors for making the
+mistake of attacking a neighboring humanoid planet instead of Earth,
+only two days away on high drive. By now, they knew that Earth was
+defenseless. And yet, they seemed content to go on with their vows
+forgotten. Duke couldn't believe it. Down underground, beyond Earth
+inspection, they could have vast stockpiles of weapons, ready to
+install in their ships within days.
+
+How could Earth risk it, unless she had her own stock of hidden ships
+and weapons? Yet if she did, he was sure that it would have been
+impossible not to use them in defense of the colony of Cathay.
+
+He stared out, watching the crewmen mixing with the repulsive alien
+natives, laughing as they worked side by side. There must be some
+factor he didn't understand, but he'd never found it--nor did he know
+anyone who had guessed it.
+
+He stirred, uncomfortable with his own thoughts. But it wasn't fear for
+Earth that bothered him. It was simply that sooner or later some alien
+race would risk whatever unknown power the others feared. If the aliens
+won, the vast potential power of Earth would then be turned against all
+the humanoid races of the universe. Humanity could be driven from the
+galaxy.
+
+He turned the pages, idly glancing at the headlines. It was hard to
+realize that the paper wasn't right off the presses of Earth; it must
+have been brought out to Clovis on the latest ship. He checked the
+date, and frowned in surprise. According to the rough calendar he'd
+kept, it was the current date. Somewhere he must have lost track of two
+days. How much else had he lost sight of during the long years of war?
+
+A diagram caught his attention almost at once as he turned to another
+magazine. It was of a behemoth ship, bigger than any he had ever seen,
+and built like the dream of a battleship, though it was listed as a
+freighter. He scanned it, mentally converting it. With a few like that,
+Meloa could have won during the first year.
+
+Then he swore as he saw it was part of an article on the progress of
+some alien world known as Sugfarth--by the article, a world of former
+warriors, once dedicated to the complete elimination of humanoids!
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+He saw Flannery coming along the deck at that moment, and he picked up
+the magazine, heading for his cabin. He'd ignored previous summons on
+the thin excuse of not feeling well. He had no desire to talk with
+Earthmen. It was bad enough to take their charity back to Earth and to
+have to stay on the planet until he could sign on with the Outer
+Federation. His memories were ugly enough, without having them
+refreshed.
+
+But Flannery caught him as he was opening the door to his cabin. The
+director was huge, with heavy, strong features and a body that looked
+too robust for the white hair and the age that showed around his eyes.
+His voice was tired, however, showing his years more plainly than his
+looks.
+
+"Captain O'Neill," he said quickly. "Stop jousting with windmills. It's
+time you grew up. Besides, I've got a job for you."
+
+"Does my charity passage demand an interview, director?" Duke asked.
+
+The other showed no offense, unfortunately. He smiled wryly. "If I
+choose, it does. I'm in command of this ship, as well as head of the
+Foreign Office. May I come in?"
+
+"I can't keep you out," Duke admitted. He dropped onto the couch,
+sprawling out, while the other found the single chair.
+
+Flannery picked up the magazine and glanced through it. "So you're
+interested in the Outer Federation?" he asked. "Don't be. It doesn't
+have a chance. In a week or so, you'll see it shot. And I don't mean
+we'll wreck it. They've picked their own doom, against all the advice
+we could give them. Care to have a drink sent down while we talk?"
+
+Duke shook his head. "I'd rather cut it short."
+
+"Hotheads," Flannery told the walls thoughtfully, "make the best men
+obtainable, once they're tamed. Nothing beats an idealist who can face
+facts. And the intelligent ones usually grow up. Captain, I've studied
+your strategy against Throm on that last drive after Dayole was killed.
+Brilliant! I need a good man, and I can pay for one. If you give me a
+chance, I can also show you why you should take it. Know anything about
+how Earth got started on its present course?"
+
+"Dumb luck and cowardice, as far as I can see," Duke answered.
+
+When Earth discovered the first inefficient version of the high drive,
+she had found herself in a deserted section of the universe, with the
+nearest inhabited star system months away. The secret of the drive
+couldn't be kept, of course, but the races who used it to build war
+fleets found it easier to fight with each other than with distant
+Earth. Later, when faster drives were developed, Earth was protected by
+the buffer worlds she had rebuilt.
+
+Flannery grinned. "Luck--and experience. We learned something from our
+early nuclear-technological wars. We learned more from the interstellar
+wars of others. We decided that any planet ruined by such war wouldn't
+fight again--the women and children who lived through that hell would
+see to it--unless new hatreds grew up during the struggle back. So we
+practically pauperized ourselves at first to see that they recovered
+too quickly for hate and fear. We also began digging into the science
+of how to manipulate relationships--Earth's greatest discovery--to set
+up a system that would work. It paid off for us in the long run."
+
+"So what's all that got to do with me?" Duke asked. He'd heard of the
+great science of Earth and her ability to manipulate all kinds of
+relationships before, spoken of in hush-hush terms when he was still in
+college. But he'd quit believing in fairy tales even before then. Now
+he was even sicker of Earth's self-justification.
+
+Flannery frowned, and then shrugged. "It's no secret I need a good man
+on Throm, and you're the logical candidate, if I can pound some facts
+into your head. I've found that sending an Earthman they know as a
+competent enemy works wonders. Not at first--there's hostility for a
+while--but in the long run it gives them a new slant on us."
+
+"Then you'd better get an Earthman," Duke snapped. "You're talking to a
+citizen of Meloa! By choice!"
+
+"I hadn't finished my explanation," Flannery reminded.
+
+Duke snorted. "I was brought up on explanations. I heard men spouting
+about taming the aliens when I first learned to talk--as if they were
+wild animals. I read articles on how the Clovisem and those things from
+Sugfarth needed kindness. It's the same guff I heard about how to
+handle lions. But the men doing the talking weren't in the ring; and I
+noticed the ringmaster carried a whip and gun. He knew the beasts. I
+know the aliens of Throm."
+
+"From fighting them? From hating them? Or from being more afraid of
+them than you think Earth is, captain? I've talked to more aliens than
+you've ever seen."
+
+"And the Roman diplomats laughed at the soldiers who told them the
+Goths were getting ready to sack Rome."
+
+Flannery stared at him in sudden amusement. "We aren't in an Empire
+period, O'Neill. But you might look up what the Romans did to conquered
+people during the Republic, when Rome was still growing. Captain, I'm
+not underrating the aliens!"
+
+"Tame aliens! Or ones faking tameness. You've seen them smiling, maybe.
+I saw the other side."
+
+The old man sighed heavily and reached for his shirt. He began
+unbuttoning it and pulling it over his head. "You've got a nice
+prosthetic hand," he said. "Now take a look at some real handiwork!"
+
+There was a strap affair around his shoulders, with a set of
+complicated electronic controls slipped into the muscle fibers. From
+them, both arms hung loose, unattached at the shoulder blades. Further
+down, another affair of webbing went around his waist.
+
+"Only one leg is false," he explained, "but the decorations are real.
+They came from a highly skilled torturer. I've had my experience with
+aliens. Clovisem, if you're curious. I was the second in command on
+Djamboula's volunteer raid, forty years ago."
+
+Duke dropped his eyes from the scars. For a second, he groped for words
+of apology. Then the cold, frozen section of his brain swallowed the
+emotions. "I've seen a woman with a prosthetic soul," he said bitterly.
+"Only she didn't turn yellow because of what the aliens did!"
+
+Red spots shot onto Flannery's cheeks and one of the artificial arms
+jerked back as savagely as a real one. He hesitated, then reached for
+his shirt. "O.K., squawman!"
+
+The word had no meaning for Duke, though he knew it was an insult. But
+he couldn't respond to it. He fumbled through his memories, trying to
+place it. Something about Indians--
+
+Flannery began buttoning his pants over the shirt. "I'm out of bounds,
+captain," he said more quietly. "I hope you don't know the prejudices
+behind that crack. But you win. If you ever want the rest of the
+explanation, look me up."
+
+He closed the door behind him softly and went striding evenly up the
+passage.
+
+Duke frowned after him. The talk had gotten under his skin. If there
+were things he didn't know--
+
+Then he swore at himself. There was plenty he didn't know. But the
+carefully developed indoctrination propaganda of the top Earth
+psychologists wasn't the answer he wanted.
+
+He'd have to make his stay on Earth shorter than he'd planned. If they
+could get to a man who had served under Djamboula and convince him that
+Clovisem were nice house pets, it was little wonder they could wrap the
+rest of Earth around their psychological fingers.
+
+Too bad their psychology wasn't adjusted to aliens!
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Barth Nevesh was nearly seven feet tall, and his cat-shaped ears stuck
+up another four inches above his head. Even among the people of Kel he
+was a big man, but to the representatives of the other humanoid worlds
+of the Federation, he seemed a giant. The thick furs he wore against
+the heavy chill of the room added to his apparent size, and the horns
+growing from his shoulders lifted his robes until he seemed to have no
+neck.
+
+Now he stood up, driving his heavy fist down against the big wooden
+table. "The question is, do we have the answer or not?" he roared. "You
+say we do. Logic says we do. Then let's act on it!"
+
+The elfin figure of Lemillulot straightened up at the other end of the
+table. "Not so fast, commander. Nobody questions the power of your
+fleet. Nobody doubts that we have the only possible answer to the
+aliens that Earth is helping to take over our universe--strength
+through unity. But is it as good as it can be?"
+
+"How better?" Barth roared again. "Every world in this alien pocket has
+been building its strength since the Earthmen's ships first reached
+here and showed us space travel was possible. We've seen the stinking
+aliens get the same ships. But now we've got something they can't
+resist--a Federation, in spite of all Earth could do to stop us. If all
+our fleets strike at once, no alien world can resist--and we can stop
+merely holding them back. Wipe them out, one by one, I say! The only
+good alien is a dead alien!"
+
+There was a lot of talk--more than Barth usually heard or contributed
+in a month. Lemillulot was the focus of most of it. The little man
+would never be satisfied. He wanted all the humanoid worlds organized,
+and by now it was plain that Earth's influence would be too strong
+outside of their own section.
+
+Their accomplishments were already enough. United as they were, the
+Federation was clearly invincible. Their fleets were at full size and
+the crews were thoroughly trained. No other time would be better.
+
+There had already been a stir of ship-building on the alien worlds,
+since the first word of the Federation had somehow leaked out. The
+Federation position was as good as it would ever be--and with eleven
+fleets working together, nothing better was needed.
+
+"Knock them down with the long shells, haze them to base with
+interceptors, and then rip their worlds with planet bombs," Barth
+repeated his plans. "We can do it in six hours for a planet--we can
+start at the strongest, Neflis, and work down through the weakest, to
+make up for our losses. And if the Earth forces start moving in to
+rebuild them--well, I've been thinking the Federation could use a
+little more wealth and power!"
+
+"Humanoids don't attack humanoids," Lemillulot protested.
+
+The snarling, dog face of Sra from Chumkt opened in a grin, and his sly
+voice held a hint of a chuckle. "Or so Earth keeps preaching. But
+Earthmen aren't humanoids. They're humans!"
+
+He laughed softly at his own wit. There were rumbles of uncertainty,
+but Barth saw that the seed had taken root. If they kept working
+together, he and Sra could force it to ripen soon enough.
+
+"That can wait," Barth decided. "The question is, do we attack Neflis,
+and when? I say now!"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+It took an hour more for the decision. But there would be only one
+answer, and the final vote was unanimous. The fleets would take off
+from their home worlds and rendezvous near the barren sun; from there,
+they would proceed in a group, under the control of Barth, toward the
+alien world of Neflis.
+
+The commander checked his chronometer as the delegates went to send
+their coded reports to their home worlds. He had the longest distance
+to lead his fleet, and there was no time for delay.
+
+Outside, the harsh snow crackled under his feet, and a layer of storm
+clouds cut off the wan heat of Kel's sun. He drew in a deep breath,
+watching the swirl of white as he exhaled. It was a good world--a world
+to build men. It was the world from which a leader should come.
+
+The fleet would be all his within a day. And for a time, it would be
+busy at the work of wiping out the nearby aliens. After that--well,
+there were other aliens further out toward the last frontiers of
+exploration. With care, the fleet could be kept busy for years.
+
+Barth was remembering his histories, and the armies that had been swept
+together. In a few years, fighting men began to think of themselves as
+a people apart, and loyalty to their birthplace gave way to loyalty to
+their leader. Five years should be enough. Then there could be more
+than a Federation; there could be the empire among the worlds that had
+been his lifelong dream.
+
+But first, there was Earth. He snorted to himself as he reached the
+ships of his fleet. Missionaries! Spreading their soft fear through the
+universe. In five years, his fleet should be ready for ten times the
+power of any single planet--including Earth.
+
+Sra would be the only problem in his way. But that could be met later.
+For the moment, the man from Chumkt was useful.
+
+Barth strode up the ramp of his flagship, shouting out to his men as he
+went. There was no need of signals. They had been primed and waiting
+for days, ready to follow him up.
+
+He dropped to the control seat, staring at the little lights that would
+tell him of their progress. "Up ship!" he shouted, and from the metal
+halls and caverns of the ship other voices echoed his cry.
+
+The _Wind Dragon_ leaped upwards sharply. Behind, as the red lights
+showed, four hundred others charged into the sky and the open space
+beyond. Barth sat at the great screen, watching as they drew on
+steadily toward the rendezvous, mulling over his plans.
+
+They were three hours out from Kel when he turned the control over to
+his lieutenant and went below, where his table was laden with the
+smoking cheer of good green meat and ale. With a sigh of contentment,
+he threw back his outer robe and prepared to forget everything until he
+had dined.
+
+He was humming hoarsely to himself as he cut a piece of the meat and
+stuck it on his left shoulder horn, within reach of his teeth. Maybe a
+little of the baked fish would blend well--
+
+The emergency drum blasted through the ship as he lifted the knife.
+Swearing and tearing at the flesh near his mouth, he leaped up and
+forward toward the control room. He heard voices shouting, something
+about a fleet. Then he was at the screens where he could see for
+himself.
+
+Five million miles ahead, another fleet was assembled, where none
+should be from any of the Federation worlds! His eyes swept sideways
+across the screen, estimating the number. It was impossible. There
+weren't a quarter of that number in the fleet of any world, humanoid or
+alien!
+
+Barth flipped on the microresolver, twisting the wheel that sent it
+racing across the path of the fleet ahead. His eyes confirmed what his
+mind had already recognized.
+
+The aliens had their own federation. There were ships of every type
+there, grouped in units. Thirteen alien worlds were combined against
+the Outer Federation.
+
+For a breath he hesitated, ready to turn back and defend Kel while
+there was time. But it would never work. One fleet would never be
+enough to defend the planet against the combined aliens.
+
+"Cluster!" he barked into the communicator. "Out rams and up speed.
+Prepare for breakthrough!"
+
+If they could hit the aliens at full drive and cut through the weaker
+center, they could still rendezvous with the other fleets. The combined
+strength might be enough. And the gods help Kel if the aliens refused
+to follow him!
+
+Earth, he thought; Earth again, coddling and protecting aliens, forming
+them into a conspiracy against the humanoid worlds. If Kel or any part
+of the Federation survived, that debt would be paid!
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+Earth lay fat and smug under the sun, seemingly unchanged since Duke
+had left it. For generations the populace had complained that they were
+draining themselves dry to rebuild other worlds, but they had grown
+rich on the investment. It was the only planet where men worked shorter
+and shorter hours to give them more leisure in which to continue a
+frantic effort to escape boredom. It was also the only world where the
+mention of aliens made men think of their order books instead of their
+weapons.
+
+Duke walked steadily away from the grotesquely elaborate landing field.
+He had less than thirty cents in his pocket, but his breakfast aboard
+had left him satisfied for the moment. He turned onto a wider street,
+heading the long distance across the city toward the most probable
+location of the recruiting stations.
+
+The Outer Federation station would be off the main section, since the
+official line was disapproving of such a union. But he was sure there
+would be one. The system of recruiting was a tradition too hard to
+break. Earth used it as an escape valve for her troublemakers. And
+since such volunteers made some of the best of all fighters, they had
+already decided the outcome of more than one war. By carefully juggling
+the attention given the stations, Earth could influence the battles
+without seeming to do so.
+
+The air was thick with the smell of late summer, and there was pleasure
+in that, until Duke remembered the odor of Meloa, and its cause. Later
+the cloying perfume of women mixed with the normal industrial odors of
+the city, until his nose was overdriven to the point of cutoff. He saw
+things in the shop windows that he had forgotten, but he had no desire
+for them. And over everything came the incessant yammer of voices
+saying nothing, radios blaring, television babbling, and vending
+machines shouting.
+
+He gave up at last and invested half his small fund in a subway. It was
+equally noisy, but it took less time. Beside him, a fungoid creature
+from Clovis was busy practicing silently on its speaking machine, but
+nobody else seeemed to notice.
+
+Duke's head was spinning when he reached the surface again. He stopped
+to let it clear, wondering if he'd ever found this world home. It
+wouldn't matter soon, though; once he was signed up at the recruiting
+station, there would be no time to think.
+
+He saw the sign, only a few blocks from where the recruiting posters
+for Meloa had been so long ago. It was faded, but he could read the
+lettering, and he headed for it. As he had expected, it was on a dirty
+back street, where the buildings were a confusion of shipping concerns
+and cheaper apartment houses.
+
+He knew something was wrong when he was a block away. There was no
+pitch being delivered by a barking machine, and no idle group watching
+the recruiting efforts on the street. In fact, nobody was in front of
+the vacant store that had been used, and the big posters were ripped
+down.
+
+He reached the entrance and stopped. The door was half open, but it
+carried a notice that the place had been closed by order of the World
+Foreign Office. Through the dirty glass, Duke could see a young man of
+about twenty sitting slumped behind a battered desk.
+
+He stepped in and the boy looked up apathetically. "You're too late,
+captain. Neutrality went on hours ago when the first word came through.
+Caught me just ready to ship out--after two lousy months recruiting
+here, I have to be the one stranded."
+
+"You're lucky," Duke told him mechanically, not sure whether he meant
+it or not. Oddly, the idea of a kid like this mixed up in an
+interplanetary war bothered him. He turned to go, then hesitated. "Got
+a newspaper or a directory around that I could borrow?"
+
+The boy fished a paper out of a wastebasket. "It's all yours, captain.
+The whole place is yours. Slam the door when you go out. I'm going over
+to the Cathay office."
+
+"I'll go along," Duke offered. The address of that place was all he'd
+wanted from the paper. He'd have preferred the Federation to joining up
+with Earth colonists, but beggars never made good choosers.
+
+The kid shook his head. He dragged open a drawer, found a slip of
+paper, and handed it over. It was a notice that the legal maximum age
+for recruiting had been reduced to thirty! "You'd never make it,
+captain," he said.
+
+Duke looked at the paper in his hands and at the dim reflection of his
+face in a window. "No," he agreed. "I didn't make it."
+
+He followed the boy to the door, staring out at the street, thick with
+its noises and smells. He dropped to the doorsill and looked briefly up
+at the sky where two ships were cutting out to space. Flannery had
+known the regulation and hadn't told him. Yet it was his own fault; the
+age limit was lower now, but there had always been a limit. He had
+simply forgotten that he'd grown older.
+
+He found it hard to realize he'd been no older than the kid when he'd
+signed up for the war with Throm.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+For a while he sat looking at the street, trying to realize what had
+happened to him. It took time to face the facts. He listened with half
+his attention as a small group of teen-age boys came from one of the
+buildings and began exchanging angry insults with another group
+apparently waiting for them on the corner. From their attitudes, some
+of them were carrying weapons and were half-eager, half-afraid to use
+them. It was hard to remember back to the time when such things had
+seemed important to him. He considered putting a stop to the argument,
+before it got out of hand, since no police were near; but adults had no
+business in kid fights. He watched them retreat slowly back to an
+alley, still shouting to work up their courage. Maybe he should be glad
+that there was even this much fire left under the smug placidity of
+Earth.
+
+Finally, he picked up the newspaper from where he'd dropped it and
+began turning back to the want ads. His needs were few, and there
+should be dishwashing jobs, at least, somewhere in the city. He still
+had to eat and find some place to sleep.
+
+A headline glared up at him, catching his attention. He started to skim
+the story, and then read it thoroughly. Things weren't going at all as
+he'd expected in the Outer Worlds, if the account were true; and
+usually, such battle reports weren't altered much.
+
+The aliens had developed a union of their own--if anything, a stronger
+one than the humanoids had. Apparently they'd chased the Federation
+ships into some kind of a trap. Losses on both sides were huge. And
+raids had begun on all the alien and humanoid planets.
+
+He scowled as he came to the latest developments. One section of the
+Federation fleet under Sra of Chumkt had pulled out, accusing the
+faction headed by Barth Nevesh of leading the aliens to the humanoid
+rendezvous. Kel's leader had gone after the deserters, fought it out
+with them in the middle of the larger battle, killed Sra, and declared
+himself the head of the whole Federation. It was madness that should
+have led to complete annihilation; only the fumbling, uncooerdinated
+leadership of the aliens had saved the humanoid fleets. And now the
+Federation was coming apart at the seams, with Barth Nevesh frantically
+scurrying around to catch up the pieces.
+
+Duke read it through again, but with no added information. It was a
+shock to know that the aliens had combined against the humanoid
+Federation. Still, looking back on that, he could begin to see that
+they would have to, once they knew of the Federation. But the rest of
+the account--
+
+Flannery's words came back to him. The director had been right. His
+prediction was already coming true, after only three days--unless he
+had either had prior knowledge or juggled things to make it come true!
+Duke considered it, but he could see no way Flannery could either learn
+or act in advance of the arrival of the ship on Earth. The Federation
+was farther from Meloa than from this planet. He'd been forced to
+depend on the same accounts Duke had read in the papers on board the
+ship.
+
+Then Duke glanced at the date on the current paper idly, and his
+thoughts jolted completely out of focus. It was dated only three days
+later than the paper he had seen when they were docked on Clovis!
+Without instantaneous communication, it was impossible. He might have
+been mistaken about the date before, but--
+
+Nothing fitted. The feeling of uncertainty came back, crowding out the
+minor matter of his memory of the date. He stared at the richness of
+even this poor section of an Earth that huddled here as if afraid of
+its own shadows, yet reeked with self-satisfaction. He thought of Meloa
+and Throm, and the gallant try at Federation that had been made on the
+Outer Worlds. Strength had to lie in union and action; yet all the
+evidence seemed to say that it lay in timidity and sloth.
+
+Reluctantly he turned the page away from the news, to seek for the job
+sections. From the alley, there came the sound of a police whistle, and
+shouts that faded into the distance. It was probably the breaking up of
+the teen-age argument. A few people ran by, heading for the excitement,
+but Duke had lost all interest. A taxi stopped nearby and he heard a
+patter that might have been that of children's feet, but he didn't look
+up.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Then a sharper whistle shrilled almost in his ear and he twisted around
+to stare at a creature who was gazing at him. Four spindly legs led up
+to a globular body encased in a harness-like contraption. Above the
+body, two pairs of thin arms were waving about, while a long neck ended
+in a bird-like head, topped by two large ears.
+
+The ears suddenly seemed to shimmer in the air, and a surprisingly
+human voice sounded. "You're Captain Duke O'Neill!"
+
+Before Duke could answer, a small hand came out quickly to find his and
+begin shaking it, while the ears twittered on in excitement. "I'm
+honored to meet you, Captain O'Neill. I've been studying your work
+against Throm. Amazingly clever strategy! Permit me--I'm Queeth, lately
+a prince of Sugfarth. Perhaps you noticed our ship? No, of course not.
+You must have landed at the government field. My crew and I are on the
+way to the war about to begin between Kloomiria and Cathay."
+
+"Why tell me about it?" Duke asked roughly. Sugfarth--the ship he'd
+seen diagrammed had come from there. If one of those titans was to be
+used against Cathay, Earth's colony was doomed. And the impertinent
+little monster--!
+
+The creature tried to imitate a shrug with his upper set of arms. "Why
+not, captain? We're registered here as a recruiting ship for Cathay, so
+it's no secret. We thought we might as well carry along some of the men
+going out to help, since we had to pass near Earth anyhow. And I
+dropped by here in the hope that there might be a few who had failed to
+join the Federation and who would like to switch to Cathay."
+
+"Wait a minute," Duke said. He studied the alien, trying to rake what
+he'd learned from the article out of his memory. But no record of
+subtlety or deceit had been listed there. The Sugfarth were supposed to
+be honest--in fact, they'd been one of the rare races to declare their
+war in advance. Somehow, too, the words had a ring of truth in them.
+"_For_ Cathay?"
+
+"Certainly, captain. For whom else? The civilized Earth races naturally
+have to stick together against the barbarians."
+
+Duke stared at the almost comic figure, juggling the words he had heard
+with the obvious facts. "What Earth races? Do you mean that Earth is
+now giving citizenship to your people?"
+
+"Not on this planet, of course." A pair of beady black eyes stared
+back, as if trying to understand a ridiculous question. "But we're
+citizens of Earth's economic-cultural-diplomatic system, naturally."
+
+Duke felt something nibble at his mind, but he couldn't grasp it. And
+he wasn't accustomed to carrying on long chitchat with aliens. He
+shoved the thoughts away and reached for the paper again. "You won't
+find recruits here, Queeth. Only me. And I'm too old for the recruiting
+law. Besides, I've got to find a job."
+
+He turned the pages, locating the column he wanted. What had Flannery
+meant about Republican Rome? Duke could remember dimly something about
+Rome's granting citizenship to her conquered neighbors. It had been the
+basis of the city's growth and later power. Now if Earth could inspire
+citizenship from conquered aliens--
+
+Queeth made a sound like a sigh and shuffled his four feet on the
+sidewalk uncertainly. "If you came aboard on a visit, who could stop
+our taking off at once?" he suggested. "We have room for another
+officer, and we need men like you, Captain O'Neill, to help us against
+the aliens out there!"
+
+Duke looked down at the small face, and even the alien features
+couldn't disguise the obvious sincerity behind the words. It should
+have made his decision automatic. He'd come here to be recruited, and
+he was being accepted. There was a ship waiting for him, where his
+skills could be used. With such a ship, things would be different from
+the war he had known. He had a picture of Kloomiria under attack from
+it.
+
+Abruptly, he was seeing again the exploding ships of Throm, and the
+charnel smell of Kordule on victorious Meloa was thick in his nose.
+
+He stood up, shaking his head, and held out his hand, groping for the
+phrases that had been all-important once among the recruits he had
+joined. "Thanks, Queeth," he said finally. "But I've got something to
+catch up on here. Good luck--on to victory--and give the aliens hell!"
+
+He stood watching Queeth patter off toward the waiting cab and saw it
+drive away. Then he turned to the want ads in earnest.
+
+Nothing was clear in his mind yet, but he'd need a job first, then a
+room near the library. He had a lot of current history to catch up on.
+Whatever Earth was up to had to be recorded somewhere, if he could find
+it.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+Through half his reign, Var of Kloomiria had nursed his hatred of the
+humans into a holy mission. It was eighty years since his visit to
+Cathay, when the colonists' children had run screaming from him,
+shouting that he was a monster, but time had only sharpened the memory.
+He had covered his too-human body under a multitude of robes and had
+gloried in the alienness of his head, with its fringe of breathing
+tentacles and the two lobster-like claws that concealed his tiny mouth.
+Year after long year, he had built and prayed for the war of vengeance
+that must come.
+
+Almost, it had passed him by. With the threat of help from Earth for
+Cathay, he had been forced to delay while larger fleets were built. His
+reign had been drawing to a close and he had almost resigned himself to
+the law that would turn the rulership over to his eldest son. Then the
+boy had died in an explosion less than a week from the change of rule,
+and almost simultaneously Earth's timidity had won again, and the
+protection had been denied her colony.
+
+Now Var's waiting was finished. He stood in the cabin of his flagship,
+heading back to Kloomiria after the opening raid of the war, savoring
+the sweetness of the damage he had done Cathay. Life was sweet.
+
+Behind him, the door dilated softly and his aide came in, carrying a
+roll of paper. "A message from Cathay, magnificence," he announced.
+
+Var opened the message and studied it. Then he read it again,
+uncertainly. He was sure of his knowledge of English, but the note was
+senseless gibberish. Again he read it, this time aloud:
+
+"Yours of the fourteenth ultimo received and contents noted. We are
+pleased to inform you that we are in a position to fill your entire
+order and that shipment is going out at once by special messenger. We
+trust that you will find our products superior in every way. We believe
+that you will find our terms completely reasonable."
+
+It made no more sense aloud.
+
+The aide sighed apologetically. "Deliberately misapplied archaicism is
+sometimes regarded as humorous by Earthmen, magnificence. I suspect
+this is a warning that they are retaliating."
+
+"Bluff!" Var read the words again, but he could make no other meaning
+from them. Did the fools expect him to believe their flippancy spelled
+confidence, or were they deceiving themselves? And the hint of
+surrender terms was sheer stupidity. It must be an offer, though the
+wording seemed to indicate _he_ should surrender!
+
+He threw the message into a waste receptacle in disgust and went over
+to look at the screens where Kloomiria was showing. The humans of
+Cathay might try a return raid, but he was unworried. Cathay's fleet
+was pitiful, and she had no heavy ships from which to launch planet
+bombs. Of course, there were spy reports of vast numbers of what seemed
+to be guided missiles, but they could never get through the
+confusion-signals that blanketed Kloomiria.
+
+As he watched, a signal blinked. He opened the circuit and the face of
+his admiral looked out. "We've received indications of a swarm of small
+ships, magnificence," the man reported. "High speed and piloted. It may
+be a suicide squadron."
+
+"Suicide!" Var spat the word out. "Whoever heard of the human cowards
+risking their necks?"
+
+The aide touched his shoulder apologetically. "They are mentioned in
+Earth books, magnificence. And there was Djamboula."
+
+Var stared at the screen as the flight was relayed to him, snarling.
+Definitely, they were one-man ships, not guided missiles. His defenses
+had never been built to handle suicide squadrons.
+
+"Up, surround them, blast them!" he ordered. A few might get through to
+the ships or to the planet below, but quick action would wreak havoc
+among them and discourage further attempts.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+The Kloomirian fleet opened into a circle and began rising. Now the
+swarm of little ships began breaking apart, fanning out and attempting
+to turn. Var hissed. Not even the courage to go through with it after
+they were discovered! They--
+
+He leaped to the screen, cursing at what he saw.
+
+Where the little ships had opened a hole, a monstrous bulk was hurtling
+through at fantastic speed. The tiny ships had screened it, but now it
+outran them, boring straight toward the opening in the Kloomirian
+fleet. Atomic cannon began running out of enormous hatches, like the
+bristles jutting from a tendril brush.
+
+"Blast out!" Var screamed into his engine phone. His flagship leaped
+away at full drive, while the enemy seemed to grow on the screen. Then
+it diminished as they began drawing away from the fleet.
+
+There was nothing Var could do about the horror that followed. The
+great vessel bored through the fleet with cannons spitting out hell. If
+countershots were fired, they had no effect.
+
+"Sugfarth!" the aide screamed in his ears. "A ship from Sugfarth!"
+
+Var remembered the pictures he had seen, and they matched, though none
+had suggested such a size. It was impossible. The race of Sugfarth were
+aliens--warriors who had fought humanoids as few races had done. They
+would have fought with him, not against him!
+
+The ship drove down toward the planet, braking fiercely now. From it,
+two bulky objects fell. While the planet bombs dropped, the behemoth
+began to rise again. It came through the shattered ranks of Kloomiria's
+fleet, blasting again, and headed toward the tiny ships that had
+screened it, new hatches opening to receive them.
+
+Half of Var's fleet was in total ruin. On the planet below, two
+horrible gouts of flame leaped up through the atmosphere and beyond it,
+while all of Kloomiria seemed to tremble as half a continent was
+ruined. Var stared down at the destruction, unmoving.
+
+The aide coughed, holding out another roll of paper. "Cathay is
+broadcasting an appeal for us to surrender without reprisals,
+magnificence. And the Estate Governors are demanding fleet protection."
+
+Var crushed the paper in his hands without reading it.
+
+It would take half the remaining part of the fleet to give even token
+protection to Kloomiria. His plans had never been based on holding back
+the seemingly weak forces of Cathay.
+
+"No answer," he said. His hand reached for the communicator switch and
+he began issuing orders. "The fleet will regroup and return to base for
+immediate repairs and rearming. Commanders of _all_ ships will prepare
+to take off against Cathay within six hours!"
+
+Somehow, the humans had to be crushed completely before they could
+destroy Kloomiria. After that, if any of his race survived, there would
+be a mission for all future generations.
+
+Only the power of Earth could have sent the alien ship from Sugfarth,
+loaded with cannon and bombs, to fight against fellow aliens. Earth had
+declared neutrality, and then struck! For such a villainy, a million
+years was not too long to seek vengeance!
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Night had fallen in the park beyond the huge Foreign Office building
+and the air was damp and cool. Duke shivered in the shadows that
+covered his bench. He should head back to his room, but he had no
+desire to listen again to the meaningless chatter that came through the
+thin walls. Time didn't matter to him now, anyhow.
+
+He swore and reached for a cigarette, brushing the crumpled newspaper
+from his lap. He'd been a fool to think Flannery would bother with him,
+just as he'd been a fool to turn down Queeth's offer. He'd wasted his
+day off from the messenger job.
+
+Footsteps sounded down the walk that led past his bench, and he drew
+deeper into the shadows. The steps slowed and a man moved to the other
+end of the bench. Duke drew heavily on his cigarette, tossed it away,
+and started to get up.
+
+"Drink?" There was a hand holding a flask in front of him. He
+hesitated, then took it, and let a long slug run down his throat. In
+the faint light he could make out the face of Director Flannery. The
+man nodded. "Sorry I was out when you came, O'Neill. One of the guards
+saw you out here, so I came over."
+
+"You should have been in," Duke said, handing the flask back. "I've
+changed my mind since reading about some of your deals in the _Journal_.
+Well, thanks for the drink."
+
+One of Flannery's prosthetic hands rested on Duke's shoulder, and the
+pressure was surprisingly heavy. "When a man takes a drink with me,
+captain, he waits until I finish mine." He tipped up the flask and
+drank slowly before putting it away. "I suppose you mean the
+Cathay-Kloomiria mess?"
+
+"What else?" Mess was a mild word. The Sugfarth ship had seemed to make
+victory for Cathay certain the first few days, but the war had entered
+a new phase now. Cathay couldn't maintain the big ship, and it was
+practically useless. It had simply served to reduce Kloomiria to a
+position where both sides were equal. The war showed signs of settling
+down to another prolonged, exhausting affair.
+
+"Yeah, I read the editorial." Flannery sighed. "We did let a couple of
+fools make Cathay think we'd bail her out. At the time, it seemed wise.
+The son of old Var was due to assume rule in a little while and he was
+strongly pro-human. We wanted to hold things off until he took over and
+scrapped the war plans. When he was killed--well, we pulled out before
+Var was any stronger."
+
+"And sent Queeth's crowd in to do your blood-letting for you?" Duke
+sneered.
+
+"That was their own idea," Flannery denied. He lighted a cigarette and
+sat staring at the end of it, blowing out a slow stream of smoke. "All
+right, we made a mess of Cathay. We'll know better next time. Care to
+walk back with me?"
+
+"Why? So one of your trained psychopropagandists can indoctrinate me?
+Or to get drunk and cry over your confession?"
+
+"To keep me from sinking to your level and pushing your nose down your
+throat!" Flannery told him, but there was no real anger in his voice.
+He stood up, shrugging. "Nobody's forcing you, O'Neill. Say the word
+and I'll drive you home. But if you want that explanation, my working
+office seems like a good place to talk."
+
+For a moment, Duke wavered. But he'd reached the end of his own
+research, and he'd come here to find the answers. Leaving now would
+only make him more of a fool. "O.K.," he decided. "I'll stay for the
+big unveiling."
+
+Flannery grimaced. "There's no great secret, though we don't broadcast
+the facts for people and races not ready for them. We figure those who
+finish growing up here will soak up most of it automatically. Did you
+get around to the film file on interstellar wars at the library?"
+
+Duke nodded, wondering how much they knew about his activities. He'd
+spent a lot of time going over the film for clues. It was so old that
+the color had faded in places. The rest would have been easier to take
+without color. Most wasn't good photography, but all was vivid. It was
+the record of all the wars since Earth's invention of the
+high-drive--nearly two hundred of them. Gimsul, Hathor, Ptek, Sugfarth,
+Clovis, and even Meloa--the part he hadn't seen, beyond Kordule where
+the real damage lay; Ronda had been wrong, and cannibalism had been
+discovered, along with much that was worse. Two hundred wars in which
+victor and vanquished alike had been ruined--in which the supreme
+effort needed to win had left most of the victors worse than the
+defeated systems.
+
+"War!" The word was bitter on Flannery's lips. "Someone starts building
+war power--power to insure peace, as they always say. Then other
+systems must have power to protect themselves. Strength begets
+force--and fear and hatred. Sooner or later, the strain is too great,
+and you have a war so horrible that its very horror makes surrender
+impossible. You saw it on Meloa. I've seen it fifty times!"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+They reached the Foreign Office building and began crossing its lobby.
+Flannery glanced up at the big seal on the wall with its motto in
+twisted Latin--_Per Astra ad Aspera_--and his eyes turned back to
+Duke's, but he made no comment. He led the way to a private elevator
+that dropped them a dozen levels below the street, to a small room,
+littered with things from every conceivable planet. One wall was
+covered with what seemed to be the control panel of a spaceship,
+apparently now used for a desk. The director dropped into a chair and
+motioned Duke to another.
+
+He looked tired, and his voice seemed older as he bent to pull a small
+projector and screen from a drawer and set them up. "The latest chapter
+of the film," he said bitterly, throwing the switch.
+
+It was a picture of the breakup of the Outer Federation, and in some
+ways worse than the other wars. Chumkt rebelled against Kel's
+leadership and joined the aliens, while a civil war sprang up on her
+surface. Two alien planets went over to Kel. The original war was
+forgotten in a struggle for new combinations, and a thousand smaller
+wars replaced it. The Federation was dead and the two dozen races were
+dying.
+
+"When everything else fails, the fools try federation," Flannery said
+as the film ended. "We tried it on Earth. Another race discovered the
+interstellar drive before we did and used it to build an empire. We've
+found the dead and sterile remains of their civilization. It's always
+the same. When one group unites its power, those nearby must ally for
+protection. Then there's a scramble for more power, while jealousies
+and fears breed new hatreds, internally and externally. And finally,
+there's ruin--because at the technological level of interstellar
+travel, victory in war is absolutely, totally impossible!"
+
+He sat back, and Duke waited for him to resume, until it was obvious he
+had finished. At last, the younger man gave up waiting. "All right," he
+said. "Earth won't fight! Am I supposed to turn handsprings? I figured
+that much out myself. And I learned a long time ago about the blessed
+meek who were to inherit the Earth--but I can't remember anything being
+said about the stars!"
+
+"You think peace won't work?" Flannery asked mildly.
+
+"I know it won't!" Duke fumbled for a cigarette, trying to organize his
+thoughts. "You've been lucky so far. You've counted on the fact that
+war powers have to attack other powers nearby before they can safely
+strike against Earth, and you've buffered yourself with a jury-rigged
+economic trading system. But what happens when some really bright
+overlord decides to by-pass his local enemies? He'll drop fifty planet
+bombs out of your peaceful skies and collect your vassal worlds before
+they can rearm. You won't know about that, though. You'll be wiped
+out!"
+
+"I wouldn't call our friends vassals, or say the system was jury-rigged,"
+Flannery objected. "Ever hear of paradynamics? The papers call it
+the ability to manipulate relationships, when we let them write a
+speculative article. It's what lets us rebuild worlds in less than half
+a century--and form the first completely peaceful politico-economic
+culture we've ever known. Besides, I never said we had no weapons for
+our defense."
+
+Duke considered it, trying to keep a firm footing on the shifting
+quicksand of the other's arguments. He knew a little of paradynamics,
+of course, but only as something supposed to remake the world and all
+science in some abstract future. It had been originated as a complex
+mathematical analysis of nuclear relationships, and had been seized on
+for some reason by the sociologists. It had no bearing he could see on
+the main argument.
+
+"It won't wash, Flannery. Without a fleet, it won't matter if you have
+the plans of every weapon ever invented. The first time a smart power
+takes the chance, you'll run out of time."
+
+"We didn't!" Flannery swung to the control board that served as his
+desk, and his fingers seemed to play idly with the dials. From
+somewhere below them, there was a heavy vibration, as if great engines
+had sprung into life. He pressed another switch.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+[Illustration: FLANNERY]
+
+Abruptly, the room was gone. There was a night sky above them, almost
+starless, and with a great, glaring moon shining down, to show a rough,
+mossy terrain that seemed covered endlessly with row after row of
+rusting, crumbling spaceships. Atomic cannon spilled from their
+hatches, and broken ramps led down to the ground. Down one clearer lane
+among the countless ships that surrounded him, Duke saw what might be a
+distant fire with a few bent figures around it, giving the impression
+of age.
+
+Beside him, Flannery sat in his chair, holding a small control. There
+was nothing else of the office visible.
+
+The director shook his head. "It's no illusion, O'Neill. You're
+here--fifty odd thousand light-years from Earth, where we transferred
+the attacking fleet. You never heard of that, of course. The
+dictator-ruler naturally didn't make a report when his fleet simply
+vanished without trace. Here!"
+
+The liquor burned in Duke's throat, but it steadied him. He bent down,
+to feel the mossy turf under his hand.
+
+"It's real," Flannery repeated. "Paradynamics handles all
+relationships, captain. And the position of a body is simply a
+statement of its geometrical relationships. What happens if we change
+those relationships--with power enough, that is? There is no motion, in
+any classic sense. But newspapers appear two high-drive days away
+minutes after they're printed. We arrive here. And fleets sent against
+Earth just aren't there any more!"
+
+He pressed a button, and abruptly the walls of his office were around
+them again--the office that was suddenly the control room of a building
+that was more of a battleship than any Duke had ever seen.
+
+He found himself clutching the chair, and forced himself to relax,
+soaking up the shock as he had soaked up so many others. His mind faced
+the facts, accepted them, and then sickly extended them.
+
+"All right, you've got weapons," he admitted, and disgust was heavy in
+his voice. "You can defend yourself. But can the galaxy defend itself
+when somebody decides it's a fine offensive weapon? Or are all Earthmen
+supposed to be automatically pure, so this will never be turned to
+offensive use? Prove that to me and maybe I'll change my mind about
+this planet and take that job of yours!"
+
+Flannery leaned back, nodding soberly. "I intend to," he answered.
+"Duke, we tried making peaceful citizens of our youngsters here a
+century ago, but it wouldn't work. Kids have to have their little gang
+wars and their fisticuffs to grow up naturally. We can't force them.
+Their interests aren't those of adults. In fact, they think adults are
+pretty dull. No adventure. They can't see that juggling a
+twenty-million gamble on tooling up for a new competitive product is
+exciting; they can't understand working in a dull laboratory to dig
+something new out of nature's files can be exciting and dangerous.
+Above all, they can't see that the greatest adventure is the job of
+bringing kids up to be other adults. They regret the passing of dueling
+and affairs of honor. But an adult civilization knows better--because
+the passing of such things is the first step toward a race becoming
+adult, because it is adopting a new type of thinking, where such things
+have no value. You didn't hit me when I called you names, because it
+made no sense from an adult point of view. Earth doesn't go to war for
+the same reason. Thank God, we grew up just before we got into space,
+where adult thinking is necessary to survival!"
+
+There had been the kids and their seemingly pointless argument on the
+street. There had been the curiously distant respect the Meloans had
+shown him, as if they guessed that only his exterior was similar. There
+were a lot of things Duke could use to justify believing the director.
+It made a fine picture--as it was intended to.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+"It must be wonderful to sit here safely, while agents do your
+dangerous work, feeling superior to anyone who shows any courage," he
+said bitterly. "I suppose every clerk and desk-jockey out there feeds
+himself the same type of rationalization. But words don't prove
+anything. How do you prove the difference between maturity and timidity
+or smugness?"
+
+"You asked for it," Flannery said simply.
+
+The button went down on the control again. The air was suddenly thin
+and bitingly cold as they looked down on a world torn with war, where a
+hundred ships shaped like half-disks and unlike anything Duke had seen
+were mixed up in some maneuver. The button was pushed again, and this
+time there was a world below that had a port busy with similar ships,
+not fighting now. A third press brought them onto the surface of a
+heavy world that seemed to be composed of solid buildings and
+factories, where the ships were being outfitted with incomprehensible
+goods. A thing like a pipe-stem man looked up from a series of
+operations, made a waving motion to them, and abruptly disappeared.
+
+"Did you really think we could be the only adult race in the universe?"
+Flannery asked. "You're looking at the Allr, the closest cultural
+gestalt to us, and somewhere near our level. Now--"
+
+Something squamous perched on a rock on what seemed to be a barren
+world. Before it floated bright points of light that were obviously
+replicas of planets, with tiny lines of light between them, and a
+shuttling of glints along the lines. The thing seemed to look at them,
+briefly. A tentacle whipped up and touched Flannery, who sat with his
+hands off the control box. Without its use, they were abruptly back in
+their office.
+
+Flannery shivered, and there was strain on his face, while Duke felt
+his mind freeze slowly, as if with physical cold. The director cleared
+his throat. "Or maybe we should look at more routine things, though you
+might consider that we have to get ready for the day when our advancing
+culture touches on other cultures. Because we can't put it off
+forever."
+
+This time, they were in a building, like a crude shed, and there were
+men there, standing in front of a creature that seemed like a human in
+armor--but chitinous armor that was part of him. The alien suddenly
+turned, though Duke could now see that they were in a section behind
+one-way glass. Nevertheless, it seemed to sense them. Abruptly,
+something began pulling at his mind, as if his thoughts were being
+drained. Flannery hit the button again. "Telepathic race, and very
+immature," he said, and there was worry in his voice. "Thank God, the
+only one we've found, and out of our immediate line of advance."
+
+There were other scenes. A human being who walked endlessly three feet
+off the floor, fighting against some barrier that wasn't there, with
+his face frozen in fear, while creatures that seemed to be metallic
+moved about. "He found something while working on one of our
+paradynamic problems," Flannery said. "He transported himself there and
+has been exactly like that ever since--three years, now. So far, our
+desk-jockeys here haven't been able to discover exactly what line he
+was working on, but they're trying!"
+
+They were back in the office, and the director laid the control box on
+the big panel and cut off the power. He swung back to face Duke, his
+face tired.
+
+"You'll find a ship waiting to take you to Throm, and a man on board
+who'll use the trip to brief you, if you decide to take the job, Duke.
+As I said, it's up to you. If you still prefer your wars, come and see
+me next week, and maybe I can get the recruiting law set aside in your
+case, since you're really a citizen of Meloa. Otherwise, the ship takes
+off for Throm in exactly three hours."
+
+He led the way back to the elevator, and rode up to the lobby. Duke
+moved out woodenly, but Flannery was obviously going no farther. The
+old man handed over what was left of the flask, shook Duke's hand
+quickly, and closed the elevator door.
+
+Duke downed the liquor slowly, without thinking. Finally, a flicker of
+thought seemed to stir in his frozen mind. He shook himself and headed
+down the lobby toward the Earth outside. A faint vibration seemed to
+quiver in the air from below, and he quickened his steps.
+
+Outside, he shook himself again, signaled a cab, and climbed in.
+
+"The first liquor store you come to," he told the driver. "And then
+take me to the government space port, no matter what I say!"
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+It was quiet in the underground office of the director, except for the
+faint sound of Flannery's arms sliding across each other in an
+unconscious massaging motion. He caught himself at it, and leaned back,
+his tired facial muscles twitching into a faint smile.
+
+Strange things happened to a man when he grew old. His hair turned
+gray, he thought more of the past, and prosthetic limbs began to feel
+tired, as if the nerves were remembering also. And the work that had
+once seemed vitally important in every detail winnowed itself down to a
+few things, with the rest only bothersome routine.
+
+He pulled a thermos of coffee from under the desk and turned back to
+the confusion of red-coded memoranda on his desk. Then the sound of the
+elevator coming down caught his attention, and he waited until the door
+opened.
+
+"Hello, Harding," he said without turning around. Only one man beside
+himself had the key to the private entrance. "Coffee?"
+
+Harding took a seat beside him, and accepted the plastic cup. "Thanks.
+I tried to call you, but your phone was shut off. Heard the good word?"
+
+Flannery shook his head. With the matter of the strange ship that had
+been reported and the problem of what to do with the telepaths both
+coming to a head, he'd had no time for casual calls. There was no
+question now that the telepaths had plucked the knowledge of how to
+build an interstellar drive from the observers' minds, in spite of all
+precautions. And once they broke out into the rest of the galaxy--
+
+"Var died of a heart attack in the middle of a battle," Harding
+announced. "And Cathay and Kloomiria sent each other surrender notices
+the minute word was official! The damnedest thing I ever heard of.
+Edmonds came with me, and he's upstairs now, planning a big victory
+celebration as soon as we can let the word out. It should finish his
+reorientation."
+
+"I'll probably get word on it by the time someone has it all organized
+into a nice, official memo," Flannery said. "Back him up on that
+celebration. It's worth a celebration to find out both worlds are that
+close to maturity. Coming over for bridge tonight?"
+
+Harding shook his head. "I'll be up to my elbows in bills for the
+relief of Cathay and Kloomiria. It's a mess, even if it could be worse.
+Maybe tomorrow."
+
+He dropped the cup onto the desk and turned to the elevator, while
+Flannery hunted through the memoranda. As he expected, he found a
+recent one announcing Var's death. He rubbed his arms together as he
+read it, but there was no new information in it.
+
+Then, reluctantly, he picked up his phone and started to call. Scanning
+for information, just as another bundle of memos came through a small
+door in the panel. At the sight of the top photo, he put the phone back
+on its cradle. His face tautened and his arms lay limp as he read
+through it.
+
+The picture was that of one of the half-disk Allr ships. The rumors of
+the strange ship were true enough. One of the Allr races had crossed
+the gulf between the two expanding cultures, and had touched several
+worlds briefly, to land in the biggest city on Ptek, the trading center
+for a whole sector. It had been there two days already, before being
+reported to Earth!
+
+To make matters worse, it had come because its home world had been
+visited by a foreign ship--from the description, apparently from
+Sugfarth; there was no longer any chance of cutting off the news, since
+it would be circulating busily through both cultures. And with it must
+be going a thousand wild schemes by trading adventurers for
+exploration!
+
+He'd expected it to happen some day, maybe in fifty years, after he was
+out of the office. By then enough of the worlds should have reached
+maturity to offer some hope of peaceful interpenetration. But now--
+
+Victory, he thought bitterly. A small victory, and then this. Or maybe
+two small victories, if O'Neill worked out as well on Throm as he
+seemed to be doing, and if he realized he'd never be satisfied until he
+could return to Earth to face the problems he now knew existed.
+Flannery had almost hoped that it would be O'Neill who would handle the
+problem of cultural interpenetration. The man had ability.
+
+But all that was in the past now, along with all the other victories.
+And in the present, as always, there were larger and larger problems,
+while full maturity lay forever a little farther on.
+
+Then he smiled slowly at himself. There were problems behind him,
+too--ones whose solutions made these problems possible. And there would
+always be victory enough.
+
+What was victory, after all, but the chance to face bigger and bigger
+problems without fear?
+
+Flannery picked up the phone, and his arms were no longer tired.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Victory, by Lester del Rey
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