Suddenly, the fluctuating plasma ball in the holo tank began unraveling completely. It reminded Aguilera, a bit, of the sight of the Interdict ship shedding its plasma. But this was a much bigger ball, and it was obviously not being shed in a controlled manner.
This time, it was Aille who verbalized his thoughts. “Yes, they must have been badly damaged in the battle. But still, with typical Ekhat mania, attempted to carry out their mission. Now they are losing control—and their own plasma ball will destroy them for it.”
Within seconds, it was obvious that he was right. The Ekhat had tried to control a literal piece of a star—and now the star took its revenge. There was more than enough energy in that plasma ball to rip the Ekhat ship to pieces as it came apart.
One left, then. There was no way to stop it until it had unleashed its plasma ball in the Earth’s atmosphere. After that, it would be up to Oppuk and his flotilla to destroy the Ekhat ship before it could return to the sun to gather up another.
Would he do so? Rafe wondered. Or would the Governor’s now obvious hatred for Terra lead him to simply stand aside and let the Ekhat ship return again and again?
There would be little the subs could do to stop it. Only eight of the subs had survived, and they’d all suffered so much damage that to attempt another return would be sure destruction to no purpose. And, outside the sun, they would be no match even for a single Ekhat warship. Not with the huge lasers that ship would carry. In the photosphere, the advantage had been all with the subs. But in the vacuum of open space, it would be suicidal for them to attack the gigantic enemy ship. Only specially designed warships could manage that feat—and, even for them, it was risky.
He must have muttered his thoughts aloud, because Yaut spoke in response.
“Oppuk will not fail. True, he is not sane. But he is a not-sane Jao. He will retain enough vithrik. And, did he not, his own crews would demand his life.”
He was probably right, Rafe suspected. He’d listened, a couple of times, to Dr. Kinsey’s ruminations about the parallels between the Jao and the ancient Romans—as well as the ancient Mongols. And while Aguilera was not sure how closely those parallels held, of one thing he was quite certain. The Jao could be brutal, but they were not brutes. If they had the vices of conquerors, they also had the virtues. They would no more tolerate cowardice in the face of the enemy from one of their own that would any ancient Roman centurion or Mongol cavalryman.
He felt a moment of sheer camaraderie toward Yaut, then. Fortunately, he remembered in time to restrain himself from clapping the fraghta on the back. He’d also chatted with Tully once, and, like Tully, Rafe had seen a number of Toshirô Mifune movies.
The intelligent man does not take personal liberties with Yojimbo. Even in a good mood, on a good day.
Zzzt. Plop goes the offending hand.
Chapter 38
When Kralik emerged from the converted submarine after it landed at Pascagoula, the fierce afternoon light made him squint. The heat, on the other hand, even for Mississippi in late summer, didn’t seem bad at all. The air was not nearly as hot as that within the sub and felt almost cool against his face. The stench of scorched hull washed over him, combined with the miasma of unwashed bodies and sweat that the sub’s air scrubbers had not been able to suppress.
Blue-green ocean glittered just a quarter of a mile away, but closer in, a restless tide of humans and Jao waited at the edge of the tarmac. A few hopeful souls held up signs of welcome, but most were silent, radiating dread.
Then he spotted Caitlin, lovely and straight, watching as he forced his rubbery legs to climb down the portable staircase the base workers had brought onto the tarmac. Numb with fatigue, he had to cling to the handrails.
A murmur went up from the crowd as the rest of the dazed crew appeared one by one behind him, their faces tight with strain. There wasn’t a man or woman among them, he thought, who wasn’t running on pure nerve at this point.