The Visitor looked oddly unfamiliar, wearing civilian clothes instead of his uniform.
"This is dangerous for both of us," Mike said, keeping his voice low. "Must be important, right?"
"Desperately, Mike. I had to see you. The resistance is embarking on something that could be disastrous, if there's the slightest breach in security."
"We know that. If Diana and her cronies get word of this, they'll kick our asses."
"No." Martin shook his head emphatically. "This doesn't concern just the resistance. This concerns the future of your planet. Whatever the weapon is that you're working on—"
Donovan's gaze sharpened. "How do you know about that?"
Martin looked down at the battered red tablecloth. "I drove out to the new HQ the other day, and Sancho wouldn't let me through. It wouldn't take an idiot to figure out that the final weapon has been discovered, and that the push is on."
"Okay, yeah. But what's the problem?"
"The Leader is . . . can be . . . less than rational at times. Aboard one Mother Ship in every Fleet, a device was installed that every Supreme Commander or Second-in-Command has been ordered to use if threatened with ultimate defeat or capture. This device links into the gravity drive, turning the vessel into something akin to a thermonuclear device of massive proportions. The equivalent of hundreds of thousands of megatons. Enough to blow a hole in the Earth the size of this continent. Nothing would survive if it were triggered."
Donovan stared at him, light-headed with disbelieving horror. "Tell me you're kidding, Martin."
Martin shook his head. "No, I'm not. Your weapon—biological, chemical, whatever it is—had better be capable of instantaneous annihilation of all the Visitors aboard that ship, or somebody could trigger that thing. Some do-or-die patriot who is determined to follow the Leader's final order."
Donovan's voice was barely a whisper. "It may be too late, Martin. The weapon is a toxin, and we've already manufactured and parceled it out. The New York group figured out a distribution method that will create a sort of permanent lifecloud, rendering the planet useless for Visitor purposes forever. What can we do? Even if we tell the other groups about the device, one or more of them may choose to act independently, now that they have the means."
"I take it that the toxin is not instantaneous?"
"No. Takes about a minute or two to work once it's inhaled. It spreads only as fast as air circulates. They'd have time." He looked up at his friend. "What we were hoping for is that, once the toxin was in the air, your people would realize it was hopeless and split, flushing their contaminated air supply as they did. Less loss of life that way."
"It will probably happen as you hope, except for the ship carrying the device."
"Which ship is that?" Mike asked, somehow knowing the answer even before Martin spoke.
"Diana's. She was one of those who helped pioneer the math to harness the gravity drive to this purpose. And what's worse, aboard her ship are several high-ranking officers who know how to call up that program on the computers, and implement the final code sequence. Diana, Steven, Pamela, and John—if he's not aboard the New York ship—all know about it. Just as I did."
"Okay. I'd better get back, tell the others. Are you still at the same place?"
"No, I've moved again." Quickly Martin scribbled his address and telephone number—without any name—on a matchbook and gave it to Mike.
Donovan pulled something out of his pocket. "Roll up your sleeve, Martin."
"What for?" the Visitor asked, nevertheless doing as requested.
"Got to immunize you against the V-dust. It won't hurt you, and you'll need it. Here." He took out a hypodermic filled with clear fluid, and injected the substance into his friend's upper arm. "God, you guys have tough skins," he muttered, looking at the slightly bent needle before stowing it out of sight again.
"Thank you, Donovan," Martin said, "you'd better go first."
"All right. Thank you, Martin." He looked intently at the Visitor "Are you sure about this? Could it be that it's just a bluff the Leader conjured up, to keep the troops toeing the line?"
"It is no bluff, Mike. The threat is real." He took a deep breath. "I've seen the results of its use."
Diana watched as Elizabeth sat at the computer terminal in her office/lab, her short fingers dancing over the keys with scarcely a pause. The child never looked up—her attention was entirely for the machine.
"Is that a game she's playing?" Father Andrew asked, watching as the screen in front of the little girl built a fantastic array of colored lines and symbols.
"Sort of," Diana said, watching Elizabeth closely. "It's a programing game we encourage our youngsters to play. But it's very advanced. I've never seen a pre-adolescent even attempt it. And she's winning." Her voice held amazement.
"I told you she was smart," Father Andrew said proudly. "Now if she'd only talk."
"Smart?" Diana's laugh held a brittle edge. "The child is what you would call a super-genius. I'm not sure I've even been able to measure her intelligence with any accuracy. It goes off the scale."
The priest watched her closely. "Does that bother you?"
"Her origin bothers me. I'm not sure I did the right thing, experimenting genetically as I did when she was conceived. I've always felt comfortably certain that our species held inherently more intelligence than yours. Now I don't know anymore."
"I see that you've succeeded in slowing her growth."
"Yes, her physical growth. Her mental is something else again. She spends all her time playing with the computer programs I've introduced her to. The other day I saw her playing with one I didn't recognize. She'd written it herself. In our language."
"Speaking of writing, have you looked at that Bible I gave you?"
"Yes, I did. It was very interesting. Strength through love and peace—what an unusual concept! And apparently it worked for your Christ and His disciples."
"Most of the great human religions stress the same ideas, Diana. Inner peace and strength, love for one's fellow man."
"And woman."
"Yes, of course." He gazed off into the air absently. "Can we talk about how to bring peace between our peoples now?"
"And how would you have me do that? Allow you to bring the word of your God to my planet? Persuade the Leader his ambitions are wrong, that he should love his neighbors? Even if they're 8.7 light-years away?"
"I'll volunteer to travel with you, and teach the Word of the Lord to anyone who will listen. If that includes your leader, and God's word makes him decide to put away his plan for destruction, all the better."
"You'd do that?"
"I would."
As Diana hesitated, the signal flashed on her door "That will be Jake," she said, motioning Father Andrew back out of sight. "Come in, Captain."
"You sent for me, Diana?"
"Yes. I'm worried about a Fifth Column assassination attempt on Father Andrew, the priest. Double his guard."
Jake nodded brusquely, not looking at her. "I will relay your request to Pamela immediately."
Diana sat up straighter, her tones very level. "This is not a request, Captain! This is a command from your superior!"
"I'm sorry, Diana. Pamela issued orders this morning that all security or military commands must be cleared through her first. Apparently Our Leader concurred with Pamela and authorized her to implement this regulation."
The Second-in-Command tried to hide her outrage, without much success. "I see. That will be all, Captain."
The portal slid shut behind Jake, and Father Andrew stepped back out into the room, a faint smile on his lips. "I see that more than genetic building material is universal between our peoples. Power struggles plague our planet too."
"You're smiling? it amuses you?"
"The fact that we're not so different does."
She smiled bitterly. "It's ironic that I feel I can trust you as much as I trust any of my own people."
"Perhaps it was meant to be like this."
Diana laughed without amusement. "I'm not a victim of fate, Father. I'm a victim of betrayal. They're all jealous, each and every one of them, and they're bent on my destruction. I've dedicated my mind to the salvation of my planet, my life to this mission, my body and soul to the Leader . . ."
She sank into a chair, her shoulders slumping. "Now he's deserted me too"
"Diana, when I said that perhaps it was meant to be, what I was trying to suggest is that perhaps you've been chosen in some way for a mission of a higher order."
"Your God?"
"Perhaps. Or yours."
Around the conference table at the resistance headquarters, Sancho, Maggie, Caleb, Juliet, Ham, Elias, and Donovan were in the midst of a raging debate. Donovan, who had been appointed the informal presiding official, pounded his hand on the table. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute!" He took a deep breath. "Shut up!!"
Reluctant silence descended on the group.
"All right," Donovan said, "we'll go around the table, starting on my right. You first, Ham."
"I'm just sayin', why are we wasting time arguing? We win or we lose. There's no halfway."
Donovan pointed to Juliet, who sat next to Ham. She shook her blonde head. "There is a halfway! There's always a way to compromise." She gazed around the table. "If we don't win on V-day, we can still win in the future. Martin is working with the Fifth Column, and they're steadily undermining the Visitors. Thanks to Elias and others like him around the world, discipline in their ranks is being undercut by drugs and alcohol. We can hold off on using this toxin and still win."
Sancho was obviously bursting to talk. "Go, Sancho," Mike said.
"I'm sorry to disagree with our boss here, but the Fifth Column hasn't helped us to get any of our people back, or even managed to get us many weapons. We're hooked up with them, sure, but the only times we've accomplished anything significant were when we did it ourselves. But I do agree with Julie that we can win without taking this risk. It's just going to take longer."
Ham Tyler broke in. "You listen to slick here, you'd better pack it in, folks. You don't win a war by surrendering before you start!"
"I didn't say to surrender, Tyler!" Sancho flared. "You don't win a war by just screaming 'Victory,' either! And quit calling me 'slick,' or the next raid you may find yourself a casualty of what they call 'friendly fire.' "
"No threats, please," Donovan said, "and the next bozo that talks out of turn has to wash the dishes tonight. Robert."
"We've lost a lot of good people so far." Maxwell said, sorrow shadowing his face. "Ben, though I didn't know him, Ruby, Brad, Chris Faber in that raid last week. Kathleen. If we give up our chance to win, they'll have died for nothing."
"Maggie," Donovan nodded at the slender young woman with the dark-honey hair. "What's your opinion?"
"I don't have one yet. I want to ask a question."
"The most sensible approach I've heard all day," Mike applauded. "Go for it."
"What about this Alliance thing Martin was talking about?"
"I got the impression they were sort of like a League of Nations or UN—long on ideals, but short on clout. Maybe, allied with the Fifth Column, they could get something done, but probably not in time to do us any good."
"Okay," Maggie said. "Next."
"Elias," said Donovan.
"I understand how Robert feels," the young man said, " 'cause I'm one of those who lost somebody that meant a lot to me. But it's stupid to risk blowing up the whole world to avenge the deaths of our friends."
"Caleb."
Caleb's deep voice was even deeper than usual. "I'm sick of war, and that's the truth. Sick of it to my bones. But it doesn't make much sense to come this far and throw in the towel before we step in the ring for the championship match."
Elias looked earnestly at his father. "It does when you stand five foot five, step in the ring, and find out the other guy's ten feet tall!"
"And armed with bazookas!" Julie said, leaning forward, her fists clenched.
"I figured that was how you'd vote, Doc," Ham said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Which hand did you use to brush your teeth this morning?"
Donovan slapped the table. "Okay, I warned you. Elias, you wash the dishes," he said inexorably. "Julie, you help him. Ham takes out the garbage—and while you're at it, put yourself in with it, Tyler, 'cause that's where you belong."
A mutter of protest surrounded him. "Okay, now that I've managed to rid myself of my turn at K.P. tonight, I'll open the floor to free discussion. But any more shouting matches, and I'll chuck this whole mess and go play catch with my kid."
Juliet turned to Tyler. "I'd like to enlighten you on your perception of me Ham. I've never had anything in my mind since the day this group first met that wasn't a full commitment to throwing the Visitors off our planet and pulling in the welcome mat. But we're not talking jungle ambush here; we're talking about the possible annihilation of the world. The whole damn planet, Tyler, and every life-form on it! You don't have to be converted to twig that that's a lousy damn idea!"
Ham glared back at her, not backing down an inch. "Lady, you either kill the predator, or he has you for breakfast . . . and we all know I ain't speakin' metaphorically here."
"You know something?" Donovan said. "We know now what it's like to run the world. Crazy feeling, isn't it? We know what it's like to have the most weighty responsibility a world leader can feel."
He looked at each of them in turn. "There are people in this world—or there were, ten months ago—who would have pushed that button because they didn't give a damn about anything but their little corner of the world, their little grasp at immortality through power. But we have that power now. All of us in this room will decide what's gonna happen to the rest of the world. That's a pretty awesome responsibility."
He looked at Ham. "So, how does it feel? You're Russia now." He turned to Elias, "You're the United States." He pointed at Juliet. "You're some Middle Eastern religious crazy with the power to destroy the world." He sat back in his chair, his face livened only by his eyes. "How does it feel, gang?"
There was a short silence.
Maggie broke it. "We think we're right, and the others think they're right. Is someone nuts enough to obliterate the planet because the world won't bow down to their version of what's right for everyone?"
"Diana's that crazy," Juliet said softly.
"Did she tell you to say that?" Ham asked.
"Shut up, Tyler," said both Julie and Donovan together, then looked at each other.
"You owe me a beer." Donovan said.
"If we're still here, I'll be honored to pay up," Julie said grimly. She thought for a moment. "You know," she continued, "with the Fifth Column gaining recruits every day, just as we are, there's also a chance that the Visitors will evolve into a group that's no longer a threat."
Robert Maxwell shook his head. "That's what Neville Chamberlain said about Hitler. You want to take that chance?"
Silence again. Finally, Donovan stirred. "Okay, everyone has had their say. What do we do now? Call a vote?" He looked at Juliet.
"I guess so," she said. "We're certainly more used to democracy than any other form of government. I'll get some paper and pencils."
"All right," Donovan said when she was back with them. "Write one word on the slip of paper. Write 'yes' if you're in favor of carrying our V-day as previously planned; that is, one group releasing the dust while another raids the Mother Ship and attempts to gain control before Diana can push the button. If you've changed your mind about implementing V-day because of that doomsday device aboard the L.A. ship, then write 'no.' Everybody got that?"
Ham Tyler stood up. "I'm not gonna vote on this."
"We all get a vote, Tyler. Even you."
"Nope. Everyone knows what I think. If the group doesn't share my thinking, then I can't change their opinion by sitting here and writing on a ballot. I'm not gonna subject you to a 'better dead than Red' speech, either. But I'd like to remind t
he group of this: the Visitors came here to this world with the express intent of sucking us dry." He raised a hand to halt any argument. "Okay, I know that most of their people didn't know that we were intelligent life-forms; they were just following orders, and all that other stuff. But the tree purpose of their mission still remains—they came to suck us dry. And when they're done, they'll throw us over their shoulder like an empty beer can. Not only those of us in this room, but the rest of the world.
"But there won't be a world anymore. Just a squashed beer can. Now—at this time and place—we've got a chance against them. We may never get another as good, gang. There's also a chance we won't make it, a chance we can't take the Mother Ship in time, before they can trigger that thing. I think we can. I've spent over twenty years planning and pulling off this kind of job, and that's my judgment. We're good. All of us. I've never worked with a better team, and I don't say that lightly. Whetever the group decides, I'll stick with you, too, believe me.
"You have to weigh those risks now, the risk of trying to live and risking everything, versus sitting back and taking longer to die. We're not talking deterrence here. We know they'll do it. I said there was no halfway in this fight; and there's not. We're dead if we don't win."
They were silent for a long moment, watching each other. Then Maggie looked up at Tyler. "But you think we can take the ship in time."
"Yes." Ham turned and walked out, not looking back.
"Anybody have anything else to say?" Donovan asked.
No hands or voices were raised.
"All right. Let's vote."
Juliet shuffled the small scraps of paper together in the privacy of her office, and then counted them once more to make sure. It was definite. By a small margin (but how could it be otherwise, she thought bitterly; we're a small group), the resistance council had voted for an attack. Julie herself had voted against it. She now had to lead her people in a course of action that made her sweat clammily every time she thought about it.
Damn, damn, damn, she thought wearily, feeling a tightness in her throat. If I'm right and they're wrong . . .
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