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diff --git a/29680.txt b/29680.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55cc072 --- /dev/null +++ b/29680.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1009 @@ +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: 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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