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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29680-h.zip b/29680-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee20eba --- /dev/null +++ b/29680-h.zip diff --git a/29680-h/29680-h.htm b/29680-h/29680-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..88ff5f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/29680-h/29680-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1533 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Decision, by Frank M. Robinson + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.center {text-align: center;} + hr {visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 1em; padding: 0; width: 371px;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 141px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .bk1,hr {margin: 2em auto; width: 25em;} + .bk2 {margin: 1em auto; width: 30em;} + .bk2 p {margin: .5em auto;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Decision, by Frank M. Robinson + +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: Decision + +Author: Frank M. Robinson + +Illustrator: H. R. Smith + +Release Date: August 12, 2009 [EBook #29680] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DECISION *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><big>DECISION</big></h1> + +<h2><small>BY FRANK M. ROBINSON</small></h2> + +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED BY H. R. SMITH</p> + +<div class="bk1"><p><big>The captain had learned to hate. It was his +profession—and his personal reason for going +on. But even hatred has to be channeled +for its maximum use, and no truths exist forever.</big></p></div> + +<p>The battle alarm caught him +in the middle of a dream, a +dream that took place in a white +house in a small town in Ohio, +when both he and Alice had been +very young and the grown adults +he now called his children had +really been little more than +babies.</p> + +<p>He rolled out of his bed immediately +on hearing the gong, +as any good sailor would, and +slipped into his pants and shoes +and felt around the bulkhead +for his life jacket. He slipped +into it and tightened the buckles, +then put on his cap with the +captain's insignia.</p> + +<p>He opened the hatch and +stepped out into the passageway, +blinking for a moment in +the unaccustomed light and trying +to shake away the remnants +of his dream. Officers were boiling +up the passageway and up +the ladder, some eager ensigns +dressed only in their shorts and +their life jackets. It was more +wise than funny, he thought +slowly. Ships had gone down in +a matter of seconds and anybody +who spent precious moments +looking for his pants or his +wallet never got out.</p> + +<p>Harry Davis, the Exec, a +portly man in his fifties, burst +out of his stateroom, still trying +to shake the sleep from gummy +lids.</p> + +<p>The Captain shook his head, +trying to alert his mind to the +point where it could make +sensible evaluations, and started +up the corridor.</p> + +<p>"Any idea what it is, Harry?"</p> + +<p>Davis shook his head. "Not +unless it's what we've been expecting."</p> + +<p>What we've been expecting. +The Captain grasped the iron +piping that served for railings +and jogged up the ladder. Fifty +miles north, lolling in the North +Sea and holding maneuvers, was +the <i>Josef Dzugashvili</i>, a hundred +thousand tons of the finest aircraft +carrier the Asiatic Combine +had produced, carrying +close to a hundred Mig-72's and +perhaps half a dozen light +bombers.</p> + +<p>The <i>Josef</i> had been operating +there for nearly a week. The +<i>Oahu</i> had been detached from +the Atlantic Fleet only a few +days ago, to combat the possible +threat. Maybe the ships were +only acting as stake-outs for the +politicians, the Captain thought +slowly. The tinder waiting for +the spark. And it wouldn't take +much.</p> + +<p>A curious pilot who might +venture too close, a gunner with +a nervous temperament ...</p> + +<p>And now, maybe, this was it. +It had to come some day. You +couldn't turn the other cheek +forever. And he, for one, was +glad. He had spent almost all +his life waiting for this. A +chance to get even ...</p> + +<p>Davis opened the hatch to the +wheelhouse and the Captain +slipped in, closing it tight behind +him. It was pitch black +and it took his eyes a few moments +to adjust to it. When they +had, he could make out the +shadowed forms of the OD, the +first class quartermaster at the +wheel, and the radarman hunched +over the repeater, the scope +a phosphorescent blur in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>The ports were open in violation +of GQ—it was a hot summer +night—and the slight breeze +that blew off the swelling sea +smelled clean and cool. It was +the only kind of air for a man +to breathe, the Captain mused +abstractly.</p> + +<p>He glanced sharply through +the ports. There was nothing +that bulked on the dark horizon, +and so far as he could tell, all +the stars were fixed—there were +none of the tell-tale flashes of +jet exhausts.</p> + +<p>He walked over to where the +OD stood by the radar scope, +seemingly fascinated by the picture +on it. McCandless had the +watch, a young lieutenant of not +more than twenty-five but one +with good sense and sound judgment +nonetheless. A man who +wasn't prone to panic, the Captain +thought.</p> + +<p>"What's the situation, Lieutenant?"</p> + +<p>McCandless' voice was nervous. +"I'm not exactly sure, sir. +Not ... yet."</p> + +<p>A brief regret at an interrupted +dream of Ohio flickered +in the back of the Captain's +mind.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, you're not +sure?" His voice was a little +sharper than he intended, a +little more querulous than he +had meant it to be. It was, he +thought, the voice of an old +man, annoyed at having his +sleep disturbed.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/001.png" width="371" height="550" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<p>The younger man wasn't disturbed +by the sharpness and the +Captain's estimation of McCandless +went up another notch.</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes ago CIC reported +an object approaching us +from the south at an altitude +of fifty miles."</p> + +<p>Approaching from the south, +the Captain thought. So it +couldn't have been from the +<i>Josef</i>. And fifty ... miles ... +up. That was two hundred and +fifty thousand feet. A guided +missile, perhaps? But whose? +There were only friendly countries +to the south.</p> + +<p>"It's passed directly overhead," +McCandless continued, +consciously trying to make his +voice sound factual, "and continued +in the direction of +<i>Josef</i>. It settled towards sea +level, then stopped a mile up."</p> + +<p>"Stopped, Lieutenant?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. It's hovering over +the <i>Josef</i> now." McCandless +paused. When he started again, +his voice was shaking. It was +funny he hadn't noticed it before, +the Captain thought. You +could almost smell the fear in +the wheelhouse. "CIC estimated +its speed overhead as being in +excess of a thousand miles an +hour and its size about that of +the <i>Josef</i> itself."</p> + +<p>The Captain felt the sweat +gather on his temples and ran +his hand half angrily over his +forehead and through his thinning +silver hair. He was too old +a man to let fear affect him any +more and he was too tired a +man to waste his energy mopping +his forehead every few +minutes in a gesture that would +show his feelings to the crew. +Maybe it was only vanity, he +thought, but when your muscles +went soft and started pushing +back against your belt and your +hair turned gray and started a +strategic retreat, you tended to +take more care of your reputation. +It wasn't as fragile as the +rest of you, it didn't tarnish +with the gold of your braid or +sag with your muscles. And he +had enjoyed a reputation as a +fearless man of sound judgment.</p> + +<p>"Did you order up a drone +plane?"</p> + +<p>McCandless nodded in the +dark. "It went up a few minutes +ago, sir. The television picture +should be coming in any moment."</p> + +<p>It would be an infra-red picture, +the Captain thought. It +wouldn't show too much, provided +the plane could get close +enough to get anything at all, +but it would show something.</p> + +<p>"Have you made any evaluations, +Lieutenant?"</p> + +<p>He could feel the tenseness +build up again in the compartment. +Everybody was listening +intently, waiting for the first +semi-official hint of what had +gotten them up in the middle of +the night.</p> + +<p>Then McCandless voiced what +the Captain had already taken +to be a foregone conclusion.</p> + +<p>"I think it's a spaceship, sir." +McCandless waved at the stars +beyond the port. "From some +place out there."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The picture started coming in +at oh three hundred. The Captain +and Davis and McCandless +clustered about the infra-red +screen, watching the shadowy +picture build up.</p> + +<p>It wasn't much of a picture, +the Captain thought. It was +vague and indistinct and the +drone plane was shooting the +scene from too far away. But +he could make out the <i>Dzugashvili</i>, +a gloomy shape that bulked +huge in the water, the planes +clustered on its deck like small, +black flies. But that wasn't what +interested him. He had seen restricted +photographs and complete +descriptions and evaluations +of the <i>Josef</i>'s fighting +capabilities before. What was of +vastly more importance was the +huge structure that hovered +above the <i>Josef</i>, a mile overhead. +A structure that blocked out the +stars over a roughly rectangular +area the same size as the <i>Josef</i> +itself.</p> + +<p>McCandless and Davis were +still straining their eyes for details +of the alien ship by the +time the Captain had glanced +away and was formulating +policy. The picture was too +vague, he thought. There was +nothing that could be seen that +would tell you much about the +ship. And if they were correct +in thinking it was a ... his mind +hesitated at the thought ... +spaceship, then it would be impossible +to tell whether certain +features were armament or not. +And it would be futile to speculate +on the capabilities of that +armament.</p> + +<p>McCandless and Davis finished +with their inspection of the +screen and turned to the Captain, +waiting for orders.</p> + +<p>"Recall the plane," the Captain +said. "Send it out again at +dawn. And send a message to +Radio Washington, giving them +complete details. You may relax +GQ but keep the gunners at +their posts and the pilots standing +by." The fantastic became +far more real when you dealt +with it matter-of-factly, he +thought.</p> + +<p>He started for the hatch. "I'll +expect you down for breakfast," +he said to Davis. "You, too, +Lieutenant. You've been in on +this from the start, you know +more than the rest of us."</p> + +<p>Which was quite enough flattery +for a young lieutenant in +one day, he thought. It was far +more than he had ever received +when he had been a lieutenant.</p> + +<p>Back in his stateroom, the +Captain went directly to the +small lavatory, filled the washbowl, +and plunged his face into +the cold water. He was getting +old, he thought for the hundredth +time that morning. +Creeping old age where you +still awoke readily enough +but found it more and more +difficult to keep awake. You +couldn't rid yourself of the +temptation of going back to bed +and dreaming again—dreaming, +perhaps, of an Ohio town that +his own imagination had gilded +and varnished and adorned until +sometimes he thought it existed +only in his imagination and not +in reality at all.</p> + +<p>He scrubbed at his face until +a tingle of alertness came to it, +then went back to the main compartment. +The steward had laid +out the silver, and Davis and +McCandless were already there. +Davis completely relaxed in the +atmosphere that could only exist +between an Executive Officer and +a Captain. The Exec, as both +he and the Captain well knew, +was the only man on board with +whom the Captain could maintain +a relationship that was +something other than professional. +Not necessarily friendly but +... more relaxed.</p> + +<p>McCandless sat in the leather +upholstered chair by the table, +stiff and self-conscious. The hope +of the nation, the Captain +thought. Provided that they +learned how to hate and to keep +that hate alive as long as he +had kept his.</p> + +<p>His own boy had been about +McCandless' age, he thought +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you going to +do?" Davis asked.</p> + +<p>The Captain sat down at the +table. The coffee was hot and he +could smell the eggs that the +steward was frying in the small +galley. He tucked in a napkin +at his neck. It was old-fashioned +but practical, he thought. You +dribbled down the front, you +didn't spill things in your lap.</p> + +<p>"It isn't exactly up to me, +Harry. It's up to Washington." +He poured out three cups of +coffee and handed one to Davis +and one to McCandless. The +Lieutenant clutched the cup in +a deathlike grip, as if the ship +were doing forty-degree rolls +and he might lose it any minute. +"I asked you up to breakfast to +get your ideas on it. I have my +own but on something like this, +anybody's ideas are as good as +mine. Maybe better."</p> + +<p>Davis frowned and rubbed the +tip of his nose thoughtfully. +"Well, it looks to me, Bill, as if +we have a situation here where +an unknown ship from somewhere—I'm +not saying where—has +investigated two ships on +maneuvers and finally chosen to +hover over one, for what reasons +we don't know. To me it looks +like the only things we can do +is notify Washington and stand +by for orders."</p> + +<p>Great God, the Captain +thought, disgusted, there was +nothing worse than a Commander +bucking for four stripes. +A more cautious man didn't exist +on the face of the Earth nor, +possibly, a more fearful one. +Fear that whatever decision you +made would be the wrong one +and the Promotion Board would +pass you by. So you carefully +avoided making any decisions at +all. He had been the same way +himself. You salved your lack of +guts with the knowledge that +once you made captain, things +would be different and you could +assert yourself, be the man you +had always considered yourself +to be. Only once you became a +captain things didn't change a +bit, because then you were trying +to get the Promotion Board to +recommend you for Admiral. The +only men in the Navy who had +any guts were the young men +who didn't know any better and +the old bastards who had made +Admiral and no longer had any +ambition as far as rank went.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He turned to McCandless. +"You, Lieutenant?"</p> + +<p>McCandless licked dry lips.</p> + +<p>"I think it's from out in space, +sir. Maybe it's an exploration +party, but more than likely it's +an armed scouting party."</p> + +<p>"What makes you say that?"</p> + +<p>McCandless leaned forward, +his concern over his cup of coffee +momentarily forgotten. "I think +if it was an exploration party +they would have stopped at some +point of civilization first. In all +likelihood a city, a big city. But +we've received no reports of any +ship landing near a city. At +least, not yet." He paused, a +little self-consciously. "It wouldn't +be difficult to tell that +we're part of the fighting forces +of this planet, and I think it's +just luck that it chose the <i>Josef</i> +instead of us. I think the alien +ship is investigating the <i>Josef</i>. +Or will shortly."</p> + +<p>Davis lit a cigarette, a half +amused smile on his face. "For +what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"To test the armament. See +how good we are on the defensive."</p> + +<p>"What do you think they +want?" the Captain asked curiously.</p> + +<p>McCandless hesitated, then +blurted it out.</p> + +<p>"The whole world, sir!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>At oh five hundred the sun +was just breaking over the horizon, +coating the heavy green seas +with a soft covering of pink +gold. It was going to be another +hot day, the Captain thought, +one where the heat stood off the +water in little waves and the +sweat ran down your back and +soaked your khakis. And with +GQ, the rubber life jackets +would make it about ten times +as bad.</p> + +<p>He stood on the bridge for a +moment, admiring the sunrise +and smelling the brisk salt air, +then walked into the wheelhouse.</p> + +<p>The drone plane had been +up for half an hour. By this +time it should have a clearer +picture of the object that hovered +over the <i>Josef</i>.</p> + +<p>It did. The object was dun colored, +the color of storm +clouds on a cold winter's day. +Big, easily as big as the <i>Josef</i>, +and tubular shaped, slightly +flattened on the bottom. There +was nothing that could be identified +as gun ports but they probably +didn't use guns. He +wondered just what their armament +was.</p> + +<p>He turned to the radarman on +watch.</p> + +<p>"Has the <i>Josef</i> moved any?"</p> + +<p>The man nodded. "Yes, sir. +About oh four hundred they +steamed ten miles north at top +speed."</p> + +<p>"The object kept up with +them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. It's never left them, +sir. Same position directly overhead +at all times."</p> + +<p>The captain of the <i>Josef</i> must +have realized that he couldn't +get away from his overhead observer +and probably froze in position, +afraid of what would +happen if he continued to run +for it. He'd probably stay there +until the alien ship made some +hostile move or he got instructions +from home.</p> + +<p>The Captain walked back to +the bridge. The ship was +strangely silent. There were no +jets warming up on the flight +deck, there were no sounds of +chipping hammers. Except for +the planes overhead, it was a +quiet summer day, one of those +days when a perfectly smooth +sea looks like a sheet of plate +glass.</p> + +<p>He glanced down at the sides +of the <i>Oahu</i>. Tiny figures were +huddled by the anti-aircraft +guns, their helmets glinting in +the sun. A tight ship, he +thought, a ship that was ready +for anything.</p> + +<p>McCandless came out on the +bridge, his eyes red-rimmed +from lack of sleep. He stood a +respectful distance from the +Captain, a little to the right and +just behind.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful day, isn't it, Lieutenant?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. It is, sir. Very fine +day."</p> + +<p>Sir. That was the one reason +why he tolerated Davis, the Captain +thought. Just to hear somebody +call him by his first name +and treat him as something +other than a symbol of rank.</p> + +<p>"If your theory is correct, +Lieutenant," he mused aloud, +"then the alien ship should be +opening fire—if that's what you +would call it—any minute now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." McCandless brushed +his mouth with his hand—probably +surreptitiously removing +a wad of gum, the Captain +thought. "I was wondering what +you would do, sir, if the alien +ship opens fire on the <i>Josef</i>."</p> + +<p>"If it wasn't against regulations, +I'd issue a couple of cans +of beer per man."</p> + +<p>McCandless gaped. "I—I don't +understand you, sir."</p> + +<p>"If they finish off the <i>Josef</i>, +Lieutenant, it'll save us the trouble. +For my money, I'd be tickled +pink if the Combine sent reinforcements +and it really developed +into a fracas."</p> + +<p>McCandless turned slightly so +the Captain could no longer read +his face. The Captain wondered +if it was intentional.</p> + +<p>"I ... I guess I just took it +for granted that we'd join forces +against the aliens, sir. It seemed +like the natural thing to do."</p> + +<p>So McCandless had thought +they'd go to the rescue of the +<i>Josef</i>, the Captain thought slowly. +To the rescue. The phrase +had a funny sound to it when +you coupled it with the Combine, +an almost obscene sound.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant," the Captain +said slowly, "history has been +full of possible turning points +that the United States has almost +always failed to take advantage +of. I think this time, +just for once, we ought to play +it smart. The Combine has been +a threat for as long as I can remember. +We've had opportunities +before when we could have +let two systems cancel each +other out. We didn't take advantage +of it then and we've regretted +it ever since."</p> + +<p>McCandless didn't reply immediately +and the Captain +thought to himself, why not be +more honest? Why don't you tell +him that all your life you've +fought the Combine and the conflict +has been the only thing that +has lent meaning to living? You +hate for thirty years and you become +a slave to that hatred—you +don't forget it with a snap of +the fingers and go charging to +the rescue like a knight in shining +armor.</p> + +<p>"The aliens are ... alien, +sir," McCandless suddenly said. +"The men on the <i>Josef</i> are ... +human beings."</p> + +<p>"Are they, Mister?" The Captain +hated the lecturing attitude +but he couldn't help it. "They're +the representatives of the Combine, +aren't they? And I suppose +the Combine acted like human +beings during the Berlin war? I +suppose the slave labor camps +and the purges and the forced +confessions were the products of +ordinary human beings? No, +Lieutenant, if the aliens have +six arms and two heads they +couldn't be less inhuman than +the Combine has been!"</p> + +<p>"My father was in the Pacific +in the Second World War," the +Lieutenant said tightly. "There +were times when we ... didn't +take prisoners. And I remember +my Dad saying that some of the +men went home with ear necklaces."</p> + +<p>"Hearsay," the Captain said +gruffly. "And that was in a declared +war." And then he wondered +just how valid the distinction +was. There were, he +supposed, sadists on both sides. +And then it came down to who +committed the first cruelty and +just how should you rank them? +Was intentional torture for the +few any the worse than the dispassionate +act of dropping a +bomb that produced quite the +same, if not worse, results for +the many?</p> + +<p>"Just what would you do, Mister +McCandless?"</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant's face was +flushed. "I'm not sure, sir. But +I think I would look at it from +a strategic viewpoint. There are +two ships here, both instruments +of war. If the aliens attack the +one, and the other doesn't go to +the rescue, then it would be obvious +that we are a divided +world. We would be a tempting +... prize."</p> + +<p>"And if we went to the aid of +the <i>Josef</i>, then you think we +might beat the alien ship off?"</p> + +<p>McCandless shrugged. "I don't +know, sir. We might."</p> + +<p>The Captain turned back to +look at the now swelling sea. The +air off the water was cool and +brisk and the deck of his ship +moved comfortably under his +feet; a solid thing in a liquid +world.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't make a great deal +of difference what we think, +Lieutenant," the Captain said, a +little of his good humor restored. +"In the long run, we'll do whatever +Washington says."</p> + +<p>There was a sudden, flashing +glow just over the horizon. McCandless +blanched and the Captain +clutched the rail, his +knuckles turning white with the +force of his grip. There was another +flash and the OD popped +out of the hatch of the wheelhouse +like a cork out of a bottle. +"Captain! the ..."</p> + +<p>The Captain was already +brushing past him, heading into +the pilothouse for the television +screen and the picture that the +drone plane was transmitting.</p> + +<p>The picture on the screen +wavered and blurred with the +shock of the action. From what +he could see, the Captain knew +that whatever action he took, if +any, he would have to take it +within a relative few minutes. +The forward half of the superstructure +of the <i>Josef</i> was a +smoking ruin, the metal a cherry +red.</p> + +<p>Half the planes on the flight +deck were charred and being +frantically pushed overboard by +small tractors so the remainder +of the planes could be airborne. +A mile overhead, in the glazing +blue sky, the few planes the +<i>Josef</i> had managed to launch +buzzed futilely about the alien +ship, discharging rockets that +scintillated and flamed off the +dull gray sides and, so far as the +Captain could tell, were causing +no damage at all.</p> + +<p>"Message for you, sir."</p> + +<p>He felt the clip board being +pushed into his hand, then +glanced down. It was difficult to +read without his glasses but he +could make it out.</p> + +<p><i>Unusual ... do nothing rash +... your discretion ...</i></p> + +<p>Some cautious pen pusher behind +a desk, he thought chaotically. +Somebody for whom miles +had lent safety and detachment.</p> + +<p><i>His</i> discretion ...</p> + +<p>It was his responsibility.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Commander Davis was at his +elbow. "The <i>Josef</i>'s starting to +list, Captain."</p> + +<p>"I can see that!" he half +snarled.</p> + +<p>He wouldn't feel pity if the +<i>Josef</i> went down, he thought +fiercely. It would be good riddance, +one less carrier that they +would have to worry about at +some future date.</p> + +<p>If there was some future +date, a nagging thought intruded.</p> + +<p>He throttled it. The <i>Josef</i> +stood for everything that he +despised, a way of life that had +made a mockery of everything +he had been taught to believe in. +The menace that had eaten at +the world's vitals like a cancer, +the menace whose existence had +been enough to drive some men +to hysteria and others to the +brink of suicide. His own +wife ...</p> + +<p>Now a ship from Outside was +attacking that power and what +emotions should he feel? Elation? +Well, why not? What +other emotions should he feel? +Certainly not sadness, not regret, +not pity.</p> + +<p>The <i>Josef</i> would be sunk and +maybe the aliens would be +tempted to do more than just +attack the <i>Josef</i>; they might +attack the entire Combine as +well. And if the Combine was +beat, did it matter who did it?</p> + +<p>Except, the thought crept +back, there was no reason for +him to believe that the aliens +would differentiate between the +<i>Josef</i> and the <i>Oahu</i>, between the +Combine and the United States.</p> + +<p>"The planes!" McCandless +said, incredulous. "Look at the +planes!"</p> + +<p>The Captain glanced down at +the screen again. An orangish +glow was suffusing the alien +ship. A jet slipped in for a +rocket shot. The glow pulsed, expanded, +touched the jet, and the +plane vanished into a rain of +wreckage that sped towards the +ocean below.</p> + +<p>"God!" Davis breathed. "Did +you see that?"</p> + +<p>The Captain only half heard +him. So they were aliens. What +did that mean? Beings of different +background, different beliefs, +different physical structure? +He had been one of the +first into Berlin after the massacre +was over and the Combine +had laid the blame on their Berlin +Commandant, though it was +painfully obvious that he had +only followed out instructions. +And the shambles he had seen +there couldn't have been done +by human beings. Four thousand +soldiers and close to a hundred +thousand civilians killed. Would +you call the people who had been +responsible for that human beings +or ... aliens? Which name +fit best?</p> + +<p>The Berlin war ...</p> + +<p>A dozen different outbreaks, +starting with Korea so long +ago ...</p> + +<p>And then you were supposed +to admit that they were blood +brothers after all, and that in +the face of a mutual threat you +should forget your differences +and pool your resources against +the common enemy.</p> + +<p>"There goes another one!"</p> + +<p>So in fifteen minutes the +<i>Josef</i> would go down. And from +him it would bring only cheers, +not tears.</p> + +<p>But you didn't make decisions +on a personal basis, he +thought slowly. You had to look +at it from the viewpoint of a +thousand years. You had to develop +a certain detachment, +even though one man's lifetime +was far too short a period to +develop it in.</p> + +<p>"Message for you, Captain."</p> + +<p>It was a voice message that +had been picked up in CIC. It +was brief and to the point.</p> + +<div class="bk2"><p><i>Attention Captain United States +Vessel</i> Oahu:</p> + +<p><i>Help urgently requested. If aid +not granted immediately, all is +lost.</i></p> + +<p><i>Constantin Simenovich,<br /> +Captain, People's Warship</i> Josef Dzugashvili.</p></div> + +<p>He had a brief mental picture +of a young man lying in the +shambles of Berlin calling out +the same words. And what had +he received?</p> + +<p>He buried the thought.</p> + +<p>The detached viewpoint. Political +systems evolved, he +thought, they never remained +the same. The French Revolution +had spawned a thousand +human monsters and the blood +had run in the streets. But out +of it all had come a democratic +nation. And a thousand years +from now, what would the Combine +be? A turn of the wheel +and perhaps it would be a peace-loving +democracy while the +United States would be the +abattoir of human hopes. Who +could tell? A thousand years +from now the present bloodbaths +and tortures and mass +deaths would be history.</p> + +<p>But if the aliens won you ran +the chance of there being no history +at all.</p> + +<p>The wheelhouse was silent. +The Captain could feel a dozen +pairs of eyes watching him, +waiting for his decision. Outside +the ports, on the far horizon, +there came a steady, golden +pulsing.</p> + +<p>He looked up at McCandless +and Davis. McCandless was +young, too inexperienced to +realize that situations where today's +enemies are tomorrow's +friends are the order of the day +and not the exception. You adjusted +to it or you became bitter. +Davis, the gutless bastard, +had adjusted to it. He was probably +already to make the switch, +to go back to drinking toasts in +vodka.</p> + +<p>The detached viewpoint.</p> + +<p>"Send up the jets," the Captain +said slowly. "And send a +message to the Captain of the +<i>Josef</i>, telling him we'll render +all the assistance that we can."</p> + +<p>The wheelhouse broke into a +flurry of activity and a moment +later he could hear the sounds +of the jets taking off the flight +deck. He walked out on the +bridge deck and leaned on the +railing, staring at the horizon +where the alien ship and the +<i>Josef</i> were fighting it out. And +where planes from the <i>Oahu</i> +would shortly be helping the +<i>Josef</i>.</p> + +<p><i>But I still hate them</i>, he +thought. <i>I hate their goddamned +souls!</i></p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="141" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Space Science Fiction</i> September 1953. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Decision, by Frank M. 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Robinson + +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: Decision + +Author: Frank M. Robinson + +Illustrator: H. R. Smith + +Release Date: August 12, 2009 [EBook #29680] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DECISION *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +DECISION + +BY FRANK M. ROBINSON + +ILLUSTRATED BY H. R. SMITH + + + The captain had learned to hate. It was his profession--and his + personal reason for going on. But even hatred has to be channeled + for its maximum use, and no truths exist forever. + + +The battle alarm caught him in the middle of a dream, a dream that took +place in a white house in a small town in Ohio, when both he and Alice +had been very young and the grown adults he now called his children had +really been little more than babies. + +He rolled out of his bed immediately on hearing the gong, as any good +sailor would, and slipped into his pants and shoes and felt around the +bulkhead for his life jacket. He slipped into it and tightened the +buckles, then put on his cap with the captain's insignia. + +He opened the hatch and stepped out into the passageway, blinking for a +moment in the unaccustomed light and trying to shake away the remnants +of his dream. Officers were boiling up the passageway and up the ladder, +some eager ensigns dressed only in their shorts and their life jackets. +It was more wise than funny, he thought slowly. Ships had gone down in a +matter of seconds and anybody who spent precious moments looking for his +pants or his wallet never got out. + +Harry Davis, the Exec, a portly man in his fifties, burst out of his +stateroom, still trying to shake the sleep from gummy lids. + +The Captain shook his head, trying to alert his mind to the point where +it could make sensible evaluations, and started up the corridor. + +"Any idea what it is, Harry?" + +Davis shook his head. "Not unless it's what we've been expecting." + +What we've been expecting. The Captain grasped the iron piping that +served for railings and jogged up the ladder. Fifty miles north, lolling +in the North Sea and holding maneuvers, was the _Josef Dzugashvili_, a +hundred thousand tons of the finest aircraft carrier the Asiatic Combine +had produced, carrying close to a hundred Mig-72's and perhaps half a +dozen light bombers. + +The _Josef_ had been operating there for nearly a week. The _Oahu_ had +been detached from the Atlantic Fleet only a few days ago, to combat the +possible threat. Maybe the ships were only acting as stake-outs for the +politicians, the Captain thought slowly. The tinder waiting for the +spark. And it wouldn't take much. + +A curious pilot who might venture too close, a gunner with a nervous +temperament ... + +And now, maybe, this was it. It had to come some day. You couldn't turn +the other cheek forever. And he, for one, was glad. He had spent almost +all his life waiting for this. A chance to get even ... + +Davis opened the hatch to the wheelhouse and the Captain slipped in, +closing it tight behind him. It was pitch black and it took his eyes a +few moments to adjust to it. When they had, he could make out the +shadowed forms of the OD, the first class quartermaster at the wheel, +and the radarman hunched over the repeater, the scope a phosphorescent +blur in the darkness. + +The ports were open in violation of GQ--it was a hot summer night--and +the slight breeze that blew off the swelling sea smelled clean and cool. +It was the only kind of air for a man to breathe, the Captain mused +abstractly. + +He glanced sharply through the ports. There was nothing that bulked on +the dark horizon, and so far as he could tell, all the stars were +fixed--there were none of the tell-tale flashes of jet exhausts. + +He walked over to where the OD stood by the radar scope, seemingly +fascinated by the picture on it. McCandless had the watch, a young +lieutenant of not more than twenty-five but one with good sense and +sound judgment nonetheless. A man who wasn't prone to panic, the Captain +thought. + +"What's the situation, Lieutenant?" + +McCandless' voice was nervous. "I'm not exactly sure, sir. Not ... yet." + +A brief regret at an interrupted dream of Ohio flickered in the back of +the Captain's mind. + +"What do you mean, you're not sure?" His voice was a little sharper +than he intended, a little more querulous than he had meant it to be. It +was, he thought, the voice of an old man, annoyed at having his sleep +disturbed. + +[Illustration] + +The younger man wasn't disturbed by the sharpness and the Captain's +estimation of McCandless went up another notch. + +"Ten minutes ago CIC reported an object approaching us from the south at +an altitude of fifty miles." + +Approaching from the south, the Captain thought. So it couldn't have +been from the _Josef_. And fifty ... miles ... up. That was two hundred +and fifty thousand feet. A guided missile, perhaps? But whose? There +were only friendly countries to the south. + +"It's passed directly overhead," McCandless continued, consciously +trying to make his voice sound factual, "and continued in the direction +of _Josef_. It settled towards sea level, then stopped a mile up." + +"Stopped, Lieutenant?" + +"Yes, sir. It's hovering over the _Josef_ now." McCandless paused. When +he started again, his voice was shaking. It was funny he hadn't noticed +it before, the Captain thought. You could almost smell the fear in the +wheelhouse. "CIC estimated its speed overhead as being in excess of a +thousand miles an hour and its size about that of the _Josef_ itself." + +The Captain felt the sweat gather on his temples and ran his hand half +angrily over his forehead and through his thinning silver hair. He was +too old a man to let fear affect him any more and he was too tired a man +to waste his energy mopping his forehead every few minutes in a gesture +that would show his feelings to the crew. Maybe it was only vanity, he +thought, but when your muscles went soft and started pushing back +against your belt and your hair turned gray and started a strategic +retreat, you tended to take more care of your reputation. It wasn't as +fragile as the rest of you, it didn't tarnish with the gold of your +braid or sag with your muscles. And he had enjoyed a reputation as a +fearless man of sound judgment. + +"Did you order up a drone plane?" + +McCandless nodded in the dark. "It went up a few minutes ago, sir. The +television picture should be coming in any moment." + +It would be an infra-red picture, the Captain thought. It wouldn't show +too much, provided the plane could get close enough to get anything at +all, but it would show something. + +"Have you made any evaluations, Lieutenant?" + +He could feel the tenseness build up again in the compartment. Everybody +was listening intently, waiting for the first semi-official hint of what +had gotten them up in the middle of the night. + +Then McCandless voiced what the Captain had already taken to be a +foregone conclusion. + +"I think it's a spaceship, sir." McCandless waved at the stars beyond +the port. "From some place out there." + + * * * * * + +The picture started coming in at oh three hundred. The Captain and Davis +and McCandless clustered about the infra-red screen, watching the +shadowy picture build up. + +It wasn't much of a picture, the Captain thought. It was vague and +indistinct and the drone plane was shooting the scene from too far away. +But he could make out the _Dzugashvili_, a gloomy shape that bulked huge +in the water, the planes clustered on its deck like small, black flies. +But that wasn't what interested him. He had seen restricted photographs +and complete descriptions and evaluations of the _Josef_'s fighting +capabilities before. What was of vastly more importance was the huge +structure that hovered above the _Josef_, a mile overhead. A structure +that blocked out the stars over a roughly rectangular area the same size +as the _Josef_ itself. + +McCandless and Davis were still straining their eyes for details of the +alien ship by the time the Captain had glanced away and was formulating +policy. The picture was too vague, he thought. There was nothing that +could be seen that would tell you much about the ship. And if they were +correct in thinking it was a ... his mind hesitated at the thought ... +spaceship, then it would be impossible to tell whether certain features +were armament or not. And it would be futile to speculate on the +capabilities of that armament. + +McCandless and Davis finished with their inspection of the screen and +turned to the Captain, waiting for orders. + +"Recall the plane," the Captain said. "Send it out again at dawn. And +send a message to Radio Washington, giving them complete details. You +may relax GQ but keep the gunners at their posts and the pilots standing +by." The fantastic became far more real when you dealt with it +matter-of-factly, he thought. + +He started for the hatch. "I'll expect you down for breakfast," he said +to Davis. "You, too, Lieutenant. You've been in on this from the start, +you know more than the rest of us." + +Which was quite enough flattery for a young lieutenant in one day, he +thought. It was far more than he had ever received when he had been a +lieutenant. + +Back in his stateroom, the Captain went directly to the small lavatory, +filled the washbowl, and plunged his face into the cold water. He was +getting old, he thought for the hundredth time that morning. Creeping +old age where you still awoke readily enough but found it more and more +difficult to keep awake. You couldn't rid yourself of the temptation of +going back to bed and dreaming again--dreaming, perhaps, of an Ohio town +that his own imagination had gilded and varnished and adorned until +sometimes he thought it existed only in his imagination and not in +reality at all. + +He scrubbed at his face until a tingle of alertness came to it, then +went back to the main compartment. The steward had laid out the silver, +and Davis and McCandless were already there. Davis completely relaxed in +the atmosphere that could only exist between an Executive Officer and a +Captain. The Exec, as both he and the Captain well knew, was the only +man on board with whom the Captain could maintain a relationship that +was something other than professional. Not necessarily friendly but ... +more relaxed. + +McCandless sat in the leather upholstered chair by the table, stiff and +self-conscious. The hope of the nation, the Captain thought. Provided +that they learned how to hate and to keep that hate alive as long as he +had kept his. + +His own boy had been about McCandless' age, he thought suddenly. + +"Well, what are you going to do?" Davis asked. + +The Captain sat down at the table. The coffee was hot and he could smell +the eggs that the steward was frying in the small galley. He tucked in a +napkin at his neck. It was old-fashioned but practical, he thought. You +dribbled down the front, you didn't spill things in your lap. + +"It isn't exactly up to me, Harry. It's up to Washington." He poured out +three cups of coffee and handed one to Davis and one to McCandless. The +Lieutenant clutched the cup in a deathlike grip, as if the ship were +doing forty-degree rolls and he might lose it any minute. "I asked you +up to breakfast to get your ideas on it. I have my own but on something +like this, anybody's ideas are as good as mine. Maybe better." + +Davis frowned and rubbed the tip of his nose thoughtfully. "Well, it +looks to me, Bill, as if we have a situation here where an unknown ship +from somewhere--I'm not saying where--has investigated two ships on +maneuvers and finally chosen to hover over one, for what reasons we +don't know. To me it looks like the only things we can do is notify +Washington and stand by for orders." + +Great God, the Captain thought, disgusted, there was nothing worse than +a Commander bucking for four stripes. A more cautious man didn't exist +on the face of the Earth nor, possibly, a more fearful one. Fear that +whatever decision you made would be the wrong one and the Promotion +Board would pass you by. So you carefully avoided making any decisions +at all. He had been the same way himself. You salved your lack of guts +with the knowledge that once you made captain, things would be different +and you could assert yourself, be the man you had always considered +yourself to be. Only once you became a captain things didn't change a +bit, because then you were trying to get the Promotion Board to +recommend you for Admiral. The only men in the Navy who had any guts +were the young men who didn't know any better and the old bastards who +had made Admiral and no longer had any ambition as far as rank went. + + * * * * * + +He turned to McCandless. "You, Lieutenant?" + +McCandless licked dry lips. + +"I think it's from out in space, sir. Maybe it's an exploration party, +but more than likely it's an armed scouting party." + +"What makes you say that?" + +McCandless leaned forward, his concern over his cup of coffee +momentarily forgotten. "I think if it was an exploration party they +would have stopped at some point of civilization first. In all +likelihood a city, a big city. But we've received no reports of any ship +landing near a city. At least, not yet." He paused, a little +self-consciously. "It wouldn't be difficult to tell that we're part of +the fighting forces of this planet, and I think it's just luck that it +chose the _Josef_ instead of us. I think the alien ship is investigating +the _Josef_. Or will shortly." + +Davis lit a cigarette, a half amused smile on his face. "For what +purpose?" + +"To test the armament. See how good we are on the defensive." + +"What do you think they want?" the Captain asked curiously. + +McCandless hesitated, then blurted it out. + +"The whole world, sir!" + + * * * * * + +At oh five hundred the sun was just breaking over the horizon, coating +the heavy green seas with a soft covering of pink gold. It was going to +be another hot day, the Captain thought, one where the heat stood off +the water in little waves and the sweat ran down your back and soaked +your khakis. And with GQ, the rubber life jackets would make it about +ten times as bad. + +He stood on the bridge for a moment, admiring the sunrise and smelling +the brisk salt air, then walked into the wheelhouse. + +The drone plane had been up for half an hour. By this time it should +have a clearer picture of the object that hovered over the _Josef_. + +It did. The object was dun colored, the color of storm clouds on a cold +winter's day. Big, easily as big as the _Josef_, and tubular shaped, +slightly flattened on the bottom. There was nothing that could be +identified as gun ports but they probably didn't use guns. He wondered +just what their armament was. + +He turned to the radarman on watch. + +"Has the _Josef_ moved any?" + +The man nodded. "Yes, sir. About oh four hundred they steamed ten miles +north at top speed." + +"The object kept up with them?" + +"Yes, sir. It's never left them, sir. Same position directly overhead at +all times." + +The captain of the _Josef_ must have realized that he couldn't get away +from his overhead observer and probably froze in position, afraid of +what would happen if he continued to run for it. He'd probably stay +there until the alien ship made some hostile move or he got instructions +from home. + +The Captain walked back to the bridge. The ship was strangely silent. +There were no jets warming up on the flight deck, there were no sounds +of chipping hammers. Except for the planes overhead, it was a quiet +summer day, one of those days when a perfectly smooth sea looks like a +sheet of plate glass. + +He glanced down at the sides of the _Oahu_. Tiny figures were huddled by +the anti-aircraft guns, their helmets glinting in the sun. A tight ship, +he thought, a ship that was ready for anything. + +McCandless came out on the bridge, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of +sleep. He stood a respectful distance from the Captain, a little to the +right and just behind. + +"Beautiful day, isn't it, Lieutenant?" + +"Yes, sir. It is, sir. Very fine day." + +Sir. That was the one reason why he tolerated Davis, the Captain +thought. Just to hear somebody call him by his first name and treat him +as something other than a symbol of rank. + +"If your theory is correct, Lieutenant," he mused aloud, "then the alien +ship should be opening fire--if that's what you would call it--any +minute now." + +"Yes, sir." McCandless brushed his mouth with his hand--probably +surreptitiously removing a wad of gum, the Captain thought. "I was +wondering what you would do, sir, if the alien ship opens fire on the +_Josef_." + +"If it wasn't against regulations, I'd issue a couple of cans of beer +per man." + +McCandless gaped. "I--I don't understand you, sir." + +"If they finish off the _Josef_, Lieutenant, it'll save us the trouble. +For my money, I'd be tickled pink if the Combine sent reinforcements and +it really developed into a fracas." + +McCandless turned slightly so the Captain could no longer read his face. +The Captain wondered if it was intentional. + +"I ... I guess I just took it for granted that we'd join forces against +the aliens, sir. It seemed like the natural thing to do." + +So McCandless had thought they'd go to the rescue of the _Josef_, the +Captain thought slowly. To the rescue. The phrase had a funny sound to +it when you coupled it with the Combine, an almost obscene sound. + +"Lieutenant," the Captain said slowly, "history has been full of +possible turning points that the United States has almost always failed +to take advantage of. I think this time, just for once, we ought to play +it smart. The Combine has been a threat for as long as I can remember. +We've had opportunities before when we could have let two systems cancel +each other out. We didn't take advantage of it then and we've regretted +it ever since." + +McCandless didn't reply immediately and the Captain thought to himself, +why not be more honest? Why don't you tell him that all your life you've +fought the Combine and the conflict has been the only thing that has +lent meaning to living? You hate for thirty years and you become a slave +to that hatred--you don't forget it with a snap of the fingers and go +charging to the rescue like a knight in shining armor. + +"The aliens are ... alien, sir," McCandless suddenly said. "The men on +the _Josef_ are ... human beings." + +"Are they, Mister?" The Captain hated the lecturing attitude but he +couldn't help it. "They're the representatives of the Combine, aren't +they? And I suppose the Combine acted like human beings during the +Berlin war? I suppose the slave labor camps and the purges and the +forced confessions were the products of ordinary human beings? No, +Lieutenant, if the aliens have six arms and two heads they couldn't be +less inhuman than the Combine has been!" + +"My father was in the Pacific in the Second World War," the Lieutenant +said tightly. "There were times when we ... didn't take prisoners. And I +remember my Dad saying that some of the men went home with ear +necklaces." + +"Hearsay," the Captain said gruffly. "And that was in a declared war." +And then he wondered just how valid the distinction was. There were, he +supposed, sadists on both sides. And then it came down to who committed +the first cruelty and just how should you rank them? Was intentional +torture for the few any the worse than the dispassionate act of dropping +a bomb that produced quite the same, if not worse, results for the many? + +"Just what would you do, Mister McCandless?" + +The Lieutenant's face was flushed. "I'm not sure, sir. But I think I +would look at it from a strategic viewpoint. There are two ships here, +both instruments of war. If the aliens attack the one, and the other +doesn't go to the rescue, then it would be obvious that we are a divided +world. We would be a tempting ... prize." + +"And if we went to the aid of the _Josef_, then you think we might beat +the alien ship off?" + +McCandless shrugged. "I don't know, sir. We might." + +The Captain turned back to look at the now swelling sea. The air off the +water was cool and brisk and the deck of his ship moved comfortably +under his feet; a solid thing in a liquid world. + +"It doesn't make a great deal of difference what we think, Lieutenant," +the Captain said, a little of his good humor restored. "In the long run, +we'll do whatever Washington says." + +There was a sudden, flashing glow just over the horizon. McCandless +blanched and the Captain clutched the rail, his knuckles turning white +with the force of his grip. There was another flash and the OD popped +out of the hatch of the wheelhouse like a cork out of a bottle. +"Captain! the ..." + +The Captain was already brushing past him, heading into the pilothouse +for the television screen and the picture that the drone plane was +transmitting. + +The picture on the screen wavered and blurred with the shock of the +action. From what he could see, the Captain knew that whatever action he +took, if any, he would have to take it within a relative few minutes. +The forward half of the superstructure of the _Josef_ was a smoking +ruin, the metal a cherry red. + +Half the planes on the flight deck were charred and being frantically +pushed overboard by small tractors so the remainder of the planes could +be airborne. A mile overhead, in the glazing blue sky, the few planes +the _Josef_ had managed to launch buzzed futilely about the alien ship, +discharging rockets that scintillated and flamed off the dull gray sides +and, so far as the Captain could tell, were causing no damage at all. + +"Message for you, sir." + +He felt the clip board being pushed into his hand, then glanced down. It +was difficult to read without his glasses but he could make it out. + +_Unusual ... do nothing rash ... your discretion ..._ + +Some cautious pen pusher behind a desk, he thought chaotically. Somebody +for whom miles had lent safety and detachment. + +_His_ discretion ... + +It was his responsibility. + + * * * * * + +Commander Davis was at his elbow. "The _Josef_'s starting to list, +Captain." + +"I can see that!" he half snarled. + +He wouldn't feel pity if the _Josef_ went down, he thought fiercely. It +would be good riddance, one less carrier that they would have to worry +about at some future date. + +If there was some future date, a nagging thought intruded. + +He throttled it. The _Josef_ stood for everything that he despised, a +way of life that had made a mockery of everything he had been taught to +believe in. The menace that had eaten at the world's vitals like a +cancer, the menace whose existence had been enough to drive some men to +hysteria and others to the brink of suicide. His own wife ... + +Now a ship from Outside was attacking that power and what emotions +should he feel? Elation? Well, why not? What other emotions should he +feel? Certainly not sadness, not regret, not pity. + +The _Josef_ would be sunk and maybe the aliens would be tempted to do +more than just attack the _Josef_; they might attack the entire Combine +as well. And if the Combine was beat, did it matter who did it? + +Except, the thought crept back, there was no reason for him to believe +that the aliens would differentiate between the _Josef_ and the _Oahu_, +between the Combine and the United States. + +"The planes!" McCandless said, incredulous. "Look at the planes!" + +The Captain glanced down at the screen again. An orangish glow was +suffusing the alien ship. A jet slipped in for a rocket shot. The glow +pulsed, expanded, touched the jet, and the plane vanished into a rain of +wreckage that sped towards the ocean below. + +"God!" Davis breathed. "Did you see that?" + +The Captain only half heard him. So they were aliens. What did that +mean? Beings of different background, different beliefs, different +physical structure? He had been one of the first into Berlin after the +massacre was over and the Combine had laid the blame on their Berlin +Commandant, though it was painfully obvious that he had only followed +out instructions. And the shambles he had seen there couldn't have been +done by human beings. Four thousand soldiers and close to a hundred +thousand civilians killed. Would you call the people who had been +responsible for that human beings or ... aliens? Which name fit best? + +The Berlin war ... + +A dozen different outbreaks, starting with Korea so long ago ... + +And then you were supposed to admit that they were blood brothers after +all, and that in the face of a mutual threat you should forget your +differences and pool your resources against the common enemy. + +"There goes another one!" + +So in fifteen minutes the _Josef_ would go down. And from him it would +bring only cheers, not tears. + +But you didn't make decisions on a personal basis, he thought slowly. +You had to look at it from the viewpoint of a thousand years. You had to +develop a certain detachment, even though one man's lifetime was far too +short a period to develop it in. + +"Message for you, Captain." + +It was a voice message that had been picked up in CIC. It was brief and +to the point. + + _Attention Captain United States Vessel_ Oahu: + + _Help urgently requested. If aid not granted immediately, all is + lost._ + + _Constantin Simenovich, + Captain, People's Warship_ Josef Dzugashvili. + +He had a brief mental picture of a young man lying in the shambles of +Berlin calling out the same words. And what had he received? + +He buried the thought. + +The detached viewpoint. Political systems evolved, he thought, they +never remained the same. The French Revolution had spawned a thousand +human monsters and the blood had run in the streets. But out of it all +had come a democratic nation. And a thousand years from now, what would +the Combine be? A turn of the wheel and perhaps it would be a +peace-loving democracy while the United States would be the abattoir of +human hopes. Who could tell? A thousand years from now the present +bloodbaths and tortures and mass deaths would be history. + +But if the aliens won you ran the chance of there being no history at +all. + +The wheelhouse was silent. The Captain could feel a dozen pairs of eyes +watching him, waiting for his decision. Outside the ports, on the far +horizon, there came a steady, golden pulsing. + +He looked up at McCandless and Davis. McCandless was young, too +inexperienced to realize that situations where today's enemies are +tomorrow's friends are the order of the day and not the exception. You +adjusted to it or you became bitter. Davis, the gutless bastard, had +adjusted to it. He was probably already to make the switch, to go back +to drinking toasts in vodka. + +The detached viewpoint. + +"Send up the jets," the Captain said slowly. "And send a message to the +Captain of the _Josef_, telling him we'll render all the assistance that +we can." + +The wheelhouse broke into a flurry of activity and a moment later he +could hear the sounds of the jets taking off the flight deck. He walked +out on the bridge deck and leaned on the railing, staring at the horizon +where the alien ship and the _Josef_ were fighting it out. And where +planes from the _Oahu_ would shortly be helping the _Josef_. + +_But I still hate them_, he thought. _I hate their goddamned souls!_ + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Space Science Fiction_ September 1953. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and + typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Decision, by Frank M. 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