by Isaac Asimov
He grasped Kane by the shoulders and shook him roughly. “Do you understand? We must have help! Even here in New York the first flush of victory will fade by tomorrow. We must have help!”
“I know,” said Kane tonelessly. “I’ll get Sanat and he can leave today.” He sighed, “If today’s action was any criterion of his power as a catalyst, we may expect great events.”
Sanat climbed into the little two-man cruiser half an hour later and took his seat beside Petri at the controls.
He extended his hand to Kane a last time, “When I come back it will be with a navy behind me.”
Kane grasped the young man’s hand tightly, “We depend upon you, Filip.” He paused and said slowly, “Good luck, Loara Filip Sanat!”
Sanat flushed with pleasure at the title as he resumed his seat once more. Petri waved and Tymball called out, “Watch out for the Solar Guard!”
The airlock clanged shut, and then, with a coughing roar, the pigmy cruiser was off into the heavens.
Tymball followed it to where it dwindled into a speck and less and then turned to Kane. “All is now in the hands of Fate. And, Kane, just how was that Changing of the Flame worked? Don’t tell me the Flame turned red of itself.”
Kane shook his head slowly, “No! That carmine blaze was the result of opening a hidden pocket of strontium salts, originally placed there to impress the Lhasinu in case of need. The rest was chemistry.”
Tymball laughed grimly, “You mean the rest was mob psychology! And the Lhasinu, I think, were impressed-and how! ”
Space itself gave no warning, but the mass-detector buzzed. It buzzed peremptorily and insistently. Petri stiffened in his seat and said, “We’re in none of the meteor zones.”
Filip Sanat held his breath as the other turned the knob that rotated the peri-rotor. The star-field in the ‘visor shifted with slow dignity, and then they saw it.
It glinted in the sun like half a tiny, orange football, and Petri growled, “If they’ve spotted us, we’re sunk.”
“Lhasinuic ship?”
“Ship? That’s no ship! That’s a fifty-thousand ton battle cruiser! What in the Galaxy it’s doing here, I don’t know. Tymball said the Patrol bad made for Earth.”
Sanat’s voice was calm, “That one hasn’t. Can we outrage it?”
“Fat chance!” Petri’s fist clenched white on the G-stick. “They’re coming closer.”
The words might have been a signal. The audiomitter jiggled and the harsh Lhasinuic voice started from a whisper and rose to stridence as the radio beam sharpened, “Fire reverse motors and prepare for boarding!”
Petri released the controls and shot a look at Sanat, “I’m only the chauffeur. What do you want to do? We haven’t the chance of a meteor against the sun-but if you like the gamble-”
“Well,” said Sanat, simply, “we’re not going to surrender, are we?”
The other grinned, as the decelerating rockets blasted, “Not bad for a Loarist! Can you shoot a mounted Tonite?”
“I’ve never tried!”
“Well, then, learn how. Grab that little wheel over there and keep your eye on the small ‘visor above. See anything?” Speed was steadily dropping and the enemy ship was approaching.
“Just stars!”
“All right, rotate the wheel-go ahead, further. Try the other direction. Do you see the ship now?”
“Yes! There it is.”
“Good! Now center it. Get it where the hairlines cross, and for the sake of Sol, keep it there. Now I’m going to turn toward the lizard scum,” siderockets blasted as he spoke, “and you keep it centered.”
The Lhasinuic ship was bloating steadily, and Petri’s voice descended to a tense whisper, “I’m dropping our screen and lunging directly at her. It’s a gamble. If they’re sufficiently startled, they may drop their screen and shoot; and if they shoot in a hurry, they may miss.”
Sanat nodded silently.
“Now the second you see the purple flash of the Tonite, pull back on the wheel. Pull back hard ; and pull back fast . If you’re the tiniest trifle late, we’re through.” He shrugged, “It’s a gamble!”
With that, he slammed the G-stick forward hard and shouted, “Keep it centered!”
Acceleration pushed Sanat back gaspingly, and-the wheel in his sweating hands responded reluctantly to pressure. The orange football wobbled at the center of the ‘visor. He could feel his hands trembling, and that didn’t help any. Eyes winced with tension.
The Lhasinuic ship was swelling terribly now, and then, from its prow, a purple sword leaped toward them. Sanat closed his eyes and jerked backwards.
He kept his eyes closed and waited. There was no sound.
He opened them and started to his feet; for Petri, arms akimbo, was laughing down upon him.
“A beginner’s own luck,” he laughed. “Never held a gun before in his life and knocks out a heavy cruiser in as pretty a pink as I ever saw.”
“I hit it?” gasped Sanat.
“Not on the button, but you did disable it. That’s good enough. And now, just as soon as we get far enough away from the sun, we’re going into hyperspace.”
The tall, purple-clad figure standing by the central portview gazed longingly at the silent globe without. It was Earth, huge, gibbous, glorious.
Perhaps his thoughts were just a trifle bitter as he considered the six-month period that had just passed. It had begun with a nova-blaze. Enthusiasm kindled to white heat and spread, leaping the stellar gulfs from planet to planet as fast as the hyper-atomic beam. Squabbling governments, sudden putty before the outraged clamoring of their peoples, outfitted fleets. Enemies of centuries made sudden peace and flew under the same green flag of Earth.
Perhaps it would have been too much to expect this love-feast to continue. While it did the Humans were irresistible, One fleet was not two parsecs from Vega itself; another had captured Luna and hovered one light-second above the Earth, where Tymball’s ragged revolutionaries still held on doggedly.
Filip Sanat sighed and turned at the sound of a step. White-haired Ion Smitt of the Lactonian contingent entered.
“Your face tells the story,” said Sanat.
Smitt shook his head, “It seems hopeless.”
Sanat turned away again, “Did you know that we’ve gotten word from Tymball today? They’re fighting on what they can filch from the Lhasinu. The lizards have captured Buenos Aires, and all South America seems likely to go under their heel. They’re disheartened-the Tymballists-and disgusted, and I am, too.” He whirled suddenly, “You say that our new needle-ships insure victory. Then, why don’t we attack?”
“Well, for one thing,” the grizzled soldier planted one booted leg on the chair next to him, “the reinforcements from Santanni are not coming.”
Sanat started, “I thought they were on their way. What happened?”
“The Santannian government has decided its fleet is required for home defense.” A wry smile accompanied his words.
“What home defense? Why, the Lhasinu are five hundred parsecs away from them.”
Smitt shrugged, “An excuse is an excuse and need not make sense. I didn’t say that was the real reason.”
Sanat brushed his hair back and his fingers strayed to the yellow sun upon his shoulder, “Even so! We could still fight, with over a hundred ships. The enemy outnumbers us two to one, but with the needle-ships and with Lunar Base at our backs and the rebels harassing them in the rear-” He fell into a brooding reverie.
“You won’t get them to fight, Filip. The Trantorian squadron favors retreat.” His voice was suddenly savage, “Of the entire fleet, I can trust only the twenty ships of my own squadron-the Lactonian. Oh, Filip, you don’t know the dirt of it-you never have known. You’ve won the people to the Cause, but you’ve never won the governments. Popular opinion forced them in, but now that they are in, they’re in only for what they can get.”
“I can’t believe that, Smitt. With victory in their grasp-”
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��Victory? Victory for whom? It is exactly over that bone that the planets are squabbling. At a secret convention of the nations, Santanni demanded control of all the Lhasinuic worlds of the Sirius sector-none of which have been recognized as yet-and was refused. Ah, you didn’t know that Consequently, she decides that she must take care of her home defense, and withdraws her various squadrons.”
Filip Sanat turned away in pain, but Ion Smitt’s voice hammered on, hard, unmerciful.
“And then Trantor realizes that she hates and fears Santanni more than ever she did the Lhasinu and any day now she will withdraw her fleet to refrain from crippling them while her enemy’s ships remain quietly and safely in port. The Human nations are falling apart,” the soldier’s fist came down upon the table, “like rotten cloth. It was a fool’s dream to think that the selfish idiots could ever unite for any worthy purpose long.”
Sanat’s eyes were suddenly calculating slits, “Wait a while! Things will yet work out all right, if we can only manage to seize control of Earth. Earth is the key to the whole situation.” His fingers drummed upon the table edge. “Its capture would provide the vital spark. It would drum up Human enthusiasm, now lagging, to the boiling point, and the Governments,-well, they would either have to ride the wave, or be dashed to pieces.”
“I know that. If we fought today, you have a soldier’s word we’d be on Earth tomorrow. They realize it, too, but they won’t fight”
“Then-then they must be made to fight. The only way they can be made to fight is to leave no alternative. They won’t fight now, because they can retreat whenever they wish, but if-”
He suddenly looked up, face aglow, “You know, I haven’t been out of the Loarist tunic in years. Do you suppose your clothes will fit me?”
Ion Smitt looked down upon his ample girth and grinned, “Well, they might not fit you, but they’ll cover you all right.
What are you thinking of doing?”
“I’ll tell you. It’s a terrible chance, but- Relay the following orders immediately to the Lunar Base garrison-”
The admiral of the Lhasinuic Solar squadron was a warscarred veteran who hated two things above all else: Humans and civilians. The combination, in the person of the tall, slender Human in ill-fitted clothing, put a scowl of dislike upon his face.
Sanat wriggled in the grasp of the two Lhasinuic soldiers. “Tell them to let go,” he cried in the Vegan tongue. “I am unarmed.”
“Speak,” ordered the admiral in English. “They do not understand your language.” Then, in Lhasinuic to the soldiers, “Shoot when I give the word.”
Sanat subsided, “I came to discuss terms.”
“I judged as much when you hoisted the white flag. Yet you come in a one-man cruiser from the night side of your own fleet, like a fugitive. Surely, you cannot speak for your fleet.”
“I speak for myself.”
“Then I give you one minute. If I am not interested by the end of that time, you will be shot.” His expression was stony.
Sanat tried once more to free himself, with little success. His captors tightened their grips.
“Your situation,” said the Earthman, “is this. You can’t attack the Human squadron as long as they control Lunar Base, without serious damage to your own fleet, and you can’t risk that with a hostile Earth behind you. At the same time, I happen to know that the order from Vega is to drive the Humans from the Solar System at all costs, and that the Emperor dislikes failures.”
“You have ten seconds left,” said the admiral, but tell-tale red spots appeared above his eyes.
“All right, then,” came the hurried response, “how’s this? What if I offer you the entire Human Fleet caught in a trap?”
There was silence. Sanat went on, “What if I show you how you can take over Lunar Base, and surround the Humans?”
“Go on!” It was the first sign of interest the admiral had permitted himself.
“I am in command of one of the squadrons and I have certain powers. If you’ll agree to our terms, we can have the Base deserted within twelve hours. Two ships,” the Human raised two fingers impressively, “will take it”
“Interesting,” said the Lhasinu, slowly, “but your motive? What is your reason for doing this?”
Sanat thrust out a surly under-lip, “That would not interest you. I have been ill-treated and deprived of my rights. Besides,” his eyes glittered, “Humanity’s is a lost cause, anyway. For this I shall expect payment-ample payment. Swear to that, and the fleet is yours.”
The admiral glared his contempt “There is a Lhasinuic proverb: The Human is steadfast in nothing but his treachery. Arrange your treason, and I shall repay. I swear by the word of a Lhasinuic soldier. You may return to your ships.”
With a motion, he dismissed the soldiers and then stopped them at the doorway, “But remember, I risk two ships. They mean little as far as my fleet’s strength is concerned, but, nevertheless, if harm comes to a Lhasinuic head through Human treachery-” The scales on his head were stiffly erect and Sanat’s eyes dropped beneath the other’s cold stare.
For a long while, the admiral sat alone and motionless. Then he spat ‘This Human filth! It is a disgrace even to fight them!”
The Flagship of the Human fleet lazed one hundred miles above Luna, and within it the captains of the Squadrons sat about the table and listened to Ion Smitt’s shouted indictment.
“-I tell you your actions amount to treason. The battle off Vega is progressing, and if the Lhasinu win, their Solar squadron will be strengthened to the point where we must retreat. And if the Humans win, our treachery here exposes their flank and renders the victory worthless. We can win, I tell you. With these new needle-ships-”
The sleepy-eyed Trantorian leader spoke up. “The needleships have never been tried before. We cannot risk a major battle on an experiment, when the odds are against us.”
“That wasn’t your original view, Porcut. You-yes, and the rest of you as well-are a cowardly traitor. Cowards! Cravens!”
A chair crashed backwards as one arose in anger and others followed. Loara Filip Sanat, from his vantage-point at the central port, from where he watched the bleak landscape of Luna below with devouring concentration, turned in alarm. But Jem Porcut raised a gnarled hand for order.
“Let’s stop fencing,” he said. “I represent Trantor, and I take orders only from her. We have eleven ships here, and Space knows how many at Vega. How many has Santanni got? None! Why is she keeping them at home? Perhaps to take advantage of Trantor’s preoccupation. Is there anyone who hasn’t heard of her designs against us? We’re not going to destroy our ships here for her benefit. Trantor will not fight! My division leaves tomorrow! Under the circumstances, the Lhasinu will be glad to let us go in peace.”
Another spoke up, “And Poritta, too. The treaty of Draconis has hung like neutronium around our neck these twenty years. The imperialist planets refuse revision, and we will not fight a war which is to their interest only.”
One after another, surly exclamations dinned the perpetual refrain, “Our interests are against it! We will not fight!”
And suddenly, Loara Filip Sanat smiled. He had turned away from Luna and laughed at the snarling arguers.
“Sirs,” he said, “no one is leaving.”
Ion Smitt sighed with relief and sank back in his chair.
“Who will stop us?” asked Porcut with disdain.
“The Lhasinu! They have just taken Lunar Base and we are surrounded.”
The room was a babble of dismay. Shouting confusion held sway and then one roared above the rest, “What of the garrison?”
“The garrison had destroyed the fortifications and evacuated hours before the Lhasinu took over. The enemy met with no resistance.”
The silence that followed was much more terrifying than the cries that had preceded. “Treason,” whispered someone.
“Who is at the bottom of this?” One by one they approached Sanat. Fists clenched. Faces flushed. “Who did this?”
“I did,” said Sanat, calmly.
A moment of stunned disbelief. “Dog!” “Pig of a Loarist!” “Tear his guts out!”
And then they shrank back at the pair of Tonite guns that appeared in Ion Smitt’s fists. The burly Lactonian stepped before the younger man.
“I was in on this, too,” he snarled. “You’ll have to fight now. It is necessary to fight fire with fire sometimes, and Sanat fought treason with treason.”
Jem Porcut regarded his knuckles carefully and suddenly chuckled, “Well, we can’t wriggle out now, so we might as well fight. Except for orders, I wouldn’t mind taking a crack at the damn lizards.”
The reluctant pause was followed by shamefaced shouts- proof-positive of the willingness of the rest.
In two hours, the Lhasinuic demand for surrender had been scornfully rejected and the hundred ships of the Human squadron spread outwards on the expanding surface of an imaginary sphere-the standard defense formation of a surrounded fleet-and the Battle for Earth was on.
A space-battle between approximately equal forces resembles in almost every detail a gigantic fencing match in which controlled shafts of deadly radiation are the rapiers and impermeable walls of etheric inertia are the shields.
The two forces advance to battle and maneuver for position. Then the pale purple of a Tonite beam lashes out in a blaze of fury against the screen of an enemy ship, and in so doing, its own screen is forced to blink out. For that one instant it is vulnerable and is a perfect target for an enemy ray, which, when loosed, renders its ship open to attack for the moment. In widening circles, it spreads. Each unit of the fleet, combining speed of mechanism with speed of human reaction, attempts to slip through at the crucial moment and yet maintain its own safety.