Hunter eyed the pivot chair without enthusiasm, and pulled over a straight chair.
“I’ll take this one, sir, if you don’t mind. If I bump that lever, the whole works will go over backwards.”
“Nonsense,” said Horsip, absently bracing his tail against the floor as he adjusted his own chair. “All you do . . .” He paused abruptly.
Hunter said, “It takes two Earthmen to adjust one of these chairs . . . As for the situation, no one has told me anything. Obviously, there’s a mess of some kind. Some bird calling himself the commander of the ‘Shock Combat Legion of Space’ tried to hold us up on the way here. I identified myself as a member of the Supreme Staff, and that didn’t even slow him down. We had to slice his outfit into giblets to get through . . . The stars matched our charts, but a lot of the political units seemed new.”
“You don’t know anything about the situation?”
“Only what I’ve told you.”
Horsip nodded. “Make yourself comfortable. This will take a while.”
* * *
When Horsip finished describing the situation, Hunter looked bemused.
“This explains some comments made to me at different times. But I had no idea a thing like this was going on.”
“We never thought it would turn out like this, either.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“The first question,” said Horsip, “is whether you are prepared to fight Earthmen.”
One corner of Hunter’s mouth curled slightly upward.
“This crew I’d cheerfully fight, whatever race they belonged to. Most Earthmen are either on Earth, or on planets like Columbia. This bunch that you’re up against is the same kind that has always made trouble for us. Yes, I’ll fight them.”
“Would you take part in an invasion of Earth?”
“No. But we’ll take on this gang you describe anytime.”
“You have to bear in mind,” said Horsip, “these dictators are powerful.”
“Our opponents are always powerful. There’s just one thing that puzzles me. What are these Mikerils you’ve mentioned?”
“I’ll have to refer you to the records. What they are is beyond me. What they do is clear enough. Whenever we make progress enough to think we can settle back a little and take things easy, they turn up, and knock us halfway back into barbarism. But it’s impossible to believe it until you see it, so half the time we’re under the impression they’re a myth.”
“Where do they come from?”
“If we knew that, we’d blow the place up.”
“Do they attack in one spot at a time, or on a large front?”
“It depends. Sometimes, they hit only one planet. At other times, the records show they’ve hit many planets at once.”
“How does it look this time?”
“Worse than anything recorded since what’s called ‘The Year of the Horde.’ The experts have charted the outbreaks, and their projected curves go up off the top of the charts. It takes extra sheets of paper to show where these curves go to, and they haven’t found the peak yet.”
“H’m,” Hunter shook his head. “I’ll have to examine these records.” He shoved back his chair. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“As far as I know, that’s all of it.”
As Hunter headed for the records section, Moffis said hesitantly, “Sir . . .”
Moffis’ tone reminded Horsip of the awesome authority he had been given, now that the opposition was so strong, and the Integral Union so weak. . . . Well, he told himself, at least the Fleet was warned. Now, the thing to do was to keep every element of strength the Integral Union possessed lined up in mutual support of every other element of strength, and the first step was clear.
“Yes, Moffis?” said Horsip briskly.
“I . . . sir, I . . .”
Moffis appeared dazzled by Horsip’s presence.
Horsip cleared his throat, to make sure no trace of that reverberating tone was left over.
“Now, Moffis,” said Horsip, feeling his way cautiously, “we have to remember there was just one purpose to that message from the High Council, and that visit by the Holy Brother. The idea is to unite any wavering Centrans, and make it clear they have just one choice—obey or be condemned. Since you were never a waverer, Moffis, all that wasn’t meant for you. And it has no effect on the situation, either. We are still in the same pickle we were in before. So, the thing to do is to forget these things among ourselves, and keep our minds strictly on the job.”
Moffis intently followed this argument to the end, then nodded.
“Truth.”
“Now,” said Horsip, “what is it, Moffis?”
“I . . . ah . . . was looking at these reports while you were talking to Hunter, and there are several I thought you should look at.”
Horsip was by now allergic to reports, but he nodded gamely. “If you think so, Moffis.”
Moffis picked up two reports that each bulked as thick as the Centran casualty list after the invasion of Earth, and one considerably thinner than the average report.
Horsip glanced at the titles:
“The Peace Wagers on Earth-Controlled Planets”
“Statistical Analysis of Armaments and Production, Fifteenth Revision”
“The Masked Planet: Columbia”
Horsip skimmed through the statistical analysis of armaments, and unconsciously hunched in his chair. The dictator planets loomed up off the pages like giants. The Integral Union dwindled and shrank to a pathetic shadow.
Angrily, Horsip straightened up. The Fleet, regardless of its relative weakness, was still a factor. Everything, however small, was a factor until destroyed. He slapped the massive document on the desk, and settled back to read about the “peace movement.”
This report turned out to have been written by someone with an exasperating turn of phrase. Horsip found himself bemusedly reading the summary:
These individuals detest the possibility of the dictator planets taking over their own planets, and hence they—the wagers of peace—violently attack their governments for not yielding faster to the dictators, in order to avoid angering the dictators, since anger might lead the dictators to take over non-cooperative planets. This is certainly a very reasonable argument. If a man gives the robber everything he has before the robber gets a chance to make his demands, then there can be no robbery. It is always possible to prevent murder, provided the victim can commit suicide fast enough . . . The situation is extremely dangerous and uncertain. The Peace Wagers, brilliant, ignorant, unwearied by the heaviest responsibility that anyone else may bear, are not bought traitors, but a phenomenon brought on by the Earthmen’s creation of plenty beyond previous dreams of wealth, and their simultaneous minute dividing of experience into numerous parts, so that one man knows only the right paw of the animal, while another spends his life studying the root of its upper left long tooth—this, and the withholding of responsibility for long periods of time, act as a rot on the sources of judgment, and here we see the result . . . These people are no part of any plot; but the plotters rely on the unwitting help of these brave cowards, these moronic geniuses . . .
Horsip became vaguely conscious of the sound of workmen in the background, but his attempt to unravel the meaning of the summary had his attention riveted. Momentarily, he would think he had it, then some new phrase would snap the thing into a different shape. Horsip scratched his head, reached out, and got hold of the thinnest of the three reports—the one titled “The Masked Planet: Columbia.”
He opened this up with no great enthusiasm, read the first page, turned to the second, sat up, read on, and arrived at the summary:
Summary: The planet named “Columbia” has received little attention until recently, owing to its independent foreign policy and lack of aggressive designs on other planets. Also, it is a planet of a star somewhat removed from the usual routes, and even with the latest refinements of the stellar drive, distance remains a factor. Thus Columbia was largely ignored until the recent attempt by Dictator Ganfre to “protect” the planet against Snard by taking it over himself.
Ganfre’s take-over began with a warning to Snard. Four hours later, an ultimatum was delivered to Columbia, giving the choice of “voluntarily” joining with Ganfre, or experiencing “precautionary occupation.” Columbia at once rejected the ultimatum, and issued a general warning placing its solar system off-bounds to any ship without Columbian permission.
Ganfre’s fleet was already approaching, and leading elements entered the Columbian System. From decoding of intercepted messages, what seems to have happened is as follows:
After passing the formal limits of the Columbian system, the leading ships of Ganfre’s fleet began to accelerate. The fleet commander sent a signal ordering deceleration. The ships reported that they couldn’t decelerate. They continued to speed up, headed directly for the Columbian sun. As following elements of Ganfre’s fleet passed the formal boundary, they, too, accelerated. The fleet commander turned the main body of the fleet and notified Ganfre. Ganfre at once signaled Columbia, withdrawing the ultimatum, on the basis that he was now satisfied Columbia could protect itself against Snard. He requested permission for his scout ships to leave Columbian territory. The Columbians granted permission. The scout ships slowed, and simultaneously begin to spin, tumble end-for-end, and overheat. Their courses changed into an arc which carried them out of Columbian territory.