For Love and Glory by Poul Anderson. Chapter 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

“Yes,” Esker said as if through a noose. “Plane polarization of generated gravitons is likely, and who can foresee what else? It—it—Captain, you’ve got to renegotiate. You must.”

“No,” Valen stated. “I can’t risk it.”

“The balance in Moonhorn’s mind is certain to be fragile,” Orichalc added. “She may well decide that an attempt to alter the agreement shows bad faith, and feel compelled to give us an ultimatum, that we depart or fight.”

“Then, by God, you give the ultimatum yourself!” Esker flung forth. “They’ll back down. You admit you were surprised at what they did concede. They are weaker than us. We can destroy them, do our research, and be safely homeward bound before they can bring any real warship to bear. And they know it.”

“If I knew for sure we’d win any fight without damage to ourselves,” Valen said, “I still would not risk killing sentient beings for as little as this.”

“Little, you call it? Little? You idiot, you idiot, you—traitor to your race—”

Wrath flashed up in Lissa. She slapped the table. “That will do, client,” she called. “Hold your tongue, or else if the captain doesn’t confine you, I will.”

The eyes into which she looked seemed glazed, blind. “Yes, you would,” Esker raved, “you, his slut. Do you imagine we haven’t seen you two smirk, sneak off, and come back smarmy enough to gag a disposal?”

It isn’t the loss to his science that’s driven him over the edge, she understood, appalled.

Worse came after: “Oh, you’ve got fine taste in men, you do. You pick the great Gerward Valen, the one who ran away at Naia. [136] Have you heard, shipmates? They were evacuating people from a meteoroid bombardment. He lost his nerve and bolted. Now he’s so very tender of lives. How many did you leave to die on Naia, Valen?”

He stopped, stared past them all. A convulsion went through him. He fell back on the bench and buried face in hands.

Silence lasted. His breathing hacked at it. Nobody else moved. Valen’s features had stiffened and bleached, like a dead man’s.

At last, hearing it as if a stranger spoke far away from her, Lissa said, “That’s what you did in your spare time. Worked out a program to slip into the ship’s network. To listen to us, what we discussed in private. And to watch? Isn’t that correct, Dagmar?”

“I have been unaware of it,” the robot brain answered. “I would be, if the program was cleverly designed. Let me search. … There is a new file. Access is blocked to me.”

“I would kill you,” Lissa said. How calm she sounded. “But it isn’t worth the trouble it would cause. And my hands would always be soiled. The authorities will deal with you when you return. Go to your cubicle. Rations will be brought you. You may visit the lavatory at need. Otherwise you are quarantined for the duration of this voyage.”

Esker raised his head. Tears whipped down the coarse cheeks. Sobs went raw. “Milady, I crave pardon, I did evil, scourge me but—but don’t deny me—”

“I told you to go.”

“Wait.” No robot spoke as mechanically as Valen did. “We do need him. For scientific purposes. Without him, we could not learn half as much. Can you continue in the laboratory, Harrolson? If your performance is satisfactory, we will consider entering no charges against you.”

Does a tiny, evil joy flicker? A trial would bring everything out in public. “Y-yes, sir,” Esker hiccoughed. “I’ll do my best. My humble apologies, sir.”

I may have to let you go free, Lissa thought. You’ll have your [137] professional triumph. But never a place on my world. You’ll dwell elsewhere, anywhere else. Aloud: “Dagmar, knowing about the illicit program you can screen it off, can’t you?”

“Certainly,” said the ship. “I will take precautions against further tampering.”

“Not needed, I swear, not needed,” Esker mouthed.

Lissa ignored him. “Good, Dagmar,” she said. “Save the program itself. We might want it for evidence.” Her glance swept around the table. “Shipmates, I’ll be grateful for your silence after we return. Meanwhile, I trust you will carry on, setting this deplorable business aside as much as possible. Now I think Captain Valen and I deserve some privacy. It’s still several hours to destination. We aren’t likely to meet trouble en route.” She rose. “Come, Gerward.”

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