The Star Fox (3 page)

No. It was only that fourteen was a difficult age. It had to be
only that. And without a mother—He probably should have remarried, for Lisa’s sake. There’d been no lack of opportunity. But at most the affairs had ended as … affairs … because none of the women were Connie. Or even Madelon. Unless you counted Jocelyn Lawrie, but she was hopelessly lost in her damned peace movement and anyway—Still, he could well be making every mistake in the catalogue, trying to raise Lisa by himself. Whatever had become of the small dimpled person to whom he was the center of the universe?

He glanced at his watch and swore. Past time to call Twyman.

Back in the study he had a wait while the secretary contacted her boss and sealed the circuit. He couldn’t sit; he paced the room, fingering his books, his desk computer, his souvenirs of the lancer to whose command he had risen. Hard had it been to give up
Star Fox
. For a year after his marriage, he’d remained in the Navy. But that wouldn’t work out, wasn’t fair to Connie. He stroked a hand across her picture, without daring to animate it right now.
Not hard after all, sweetheart. Well worth everything
.

The phone chimed and the secretary said, The senator is on the line, sir.’ Her image gave way to Twyman’s distinguished gray head. Heim sat down, on the edge of the chair.

‘Hello, Gunnar,’ Twyman said. ‘How’s everything?’

‘
Comme ci, comme ça
,’ Heim answered. ‘A little more
ci
than
ça
, I think. How’s with you?’

‘Rushed damn near to escape velocity. The Aleriona crisis, you know.’

‘Uh-huh. That’s what I wanted to talk about.’

Twyman looked alarmed. ‘I can’t say much.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well … well, there really isn’t much to say yet. Their delegation has only been here for about three weeks, you remember, so no formal discussions have commenced. Diplomacy between different species is always like that. Such a fantastic lot of spadework to do, information exchange, semantic and xenological and even epistemological studies to make, before the two sides can be halfway sure they’re talking about the same subjects.’

‘Harry,’ said Heim, ‘I know as well as you do that’s a string of guff. The informal conferences are going on right along. When Parliament meets with the Aleriona, you boys on the inside will have everything rigged in advance. Arguments
marshaled, votes lined up, nothing left to do but pull the switch and let the machine ratify the decision you’ve already made.’

Well, ah, you can’t expect, say, the Kenyan Empire representatives to understand something so complex—’

Heim rekindled his pipe. What are you going to do, anyhow?’ he asked.

‘Sorry, I can’t tell you.’

Why not? Isn’t the Federation a “democracy of states”? Doesn’t its Constitution guarantee free access of information?’

‘You’ll have as much information as you want,’ Twyman snapped, ‘when we start to operate on an official basis.’

‘That’ll be too late.’ Heim sighed. ‘Never mind. I can add two and two. You’re going to let Alerion have New Europe, aren’t you?’

‘I can’t—’

‘You needn’t. The indications are everywhere. Heads of state assuring their people there’s no reason to panic, we’re not going to have a war. Politicians and commentators denouncing the ‘extremists’. Suppression of any evidence that there might be excellent reason to go to war.’

Twyman bristled. What do you mean?’

‘I’ve met Endre Vadász,’ Heim said.

Who? – oh, yes. That adventurer who claims—Look, Gunnar, there is some danger of war. I’m not denying that. France especially is up in arms, demonstrations, riots, mobs actually tearing down the Federation flag and trampling on it. We’ll have our hands full as is, without letting some skizzy like him inflame passions worse.’

‘He’s not a skizzy. Also, Alerion’s whole past record bears him out. Ask any Navy man.’

‘Precisely.’ Twyman’s voice grew urgent. ‘As we move into their sphere of interest, inevitably there’ve been more and more clashes. And can you blame them? They were cruising the Phoenix region when men were still huddled in caves. It’s theirs.’

‘New. Europe isn’t. Men discovered and colonized it.’

‘I know, I know. There are so many stars—The trouble is, we’ve been greedy. We’ve gone too far, too fast.’

‘There are a lot of stars,’ Heim agreed, ‘but not an awful lot of planets where men can live. We need ’em.’

‘So does Alerion.’

‘Ja? What use is a people-type world to them? And even on
their own kind of planet, why didn’t they ever colonize on anything like our scale, till we came along?’

‘Response to our challenge,’ Twyman said. ‘What would you do if an alien culture started grabbing planetary systems as near to Sol as Aurore is to The Eith?’ He leaned back. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. The Aleriona are no saints. They’ve sometimes been fiends, by our standards. But we have to inhabit the same cosmos with them. War is unthinkable.’

‘Why?’ drawled Heim.

‘What? Gunnar, are you out of your brain? Haven’t you read any history? Looked at the craters? Understood how close a call the Nuclear Exchange was?’

‘So close a call that ever since the human race has been irrational on the subject,’ Heim said. ‘But I’ve seen some objective analyses. And even you must admit that the Exchange and its aftermath rid us of those ideological governments.’

‘An interstellar war could rid us of Earth!’

‘Twaddle. A planet with space defenses like ours can’t be attacked from space by any fleet now in existence. Every beam would be attenuated, every missile intercepted, every ship clobbered.’

‘That didn’t work for New Europe,’ Twyman said. He was getting angry.

‘No, of course not. New Europe didn’t have any space fortresses or home fleet. Nothing but a few lancers and pursuers that happened to be in the vicinity – when Alerion’s armada came.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Gunnar. The affair was simply another clash, one that got out of hand.’

‘So the Aleriona say,’ Heim murmured. ‘If that’s the truth, how come none, not one, of our vessels escaped?’

Twyman ignored him. ‘We’ll never be sure who fired the first shot. But we can be sure the Aleriona wouldn’t have missiled New Europe if our commander hadn’t tried to pull his ships down into atmosphere for a toadhole maneuver. What other conceivable reason was there?’

If New Europe really was missiled
, Heim thought.
But it wasn’t
.

The senator checked indignation, sat silent for a bit, and went on almost mildly. ‘The whole episode illustrates how intolerable the situation has become, how matters are bound to escalate if we don’t halt while we still can. And what do we
want to fight for? A few wretched planets? We need only let Alerion’s traditional sphere alone, and the rest of the galaxy is open to us. Fight for revenge? Well, you can’t laugh off half a million dead human beings, but the fact remains that they are dead. I don’t want to send any more lives after theirs.

‘Okay,’ Heim said with equal quietness. ‘What do you figure to do?’

Twyman studied him before answering: ‘You’re my friend as well as a political backstop. I can trust you to keep your mouth shut. And to support me, I think, once you know. Do I have your promise?’

‘Of secrecy … well … yes. Support? That depends. Say on.’

‘The details are still being threshed out. But in general, Alerion offers us an indemnity for New Europe. A very sizable one. They’ll also buy out our other interests in the Phoenix. The exact terms have yet to be settled – obviously they can’t pay in one lump – but the prospect looks good. With us out of their sphere, they’ll recognize a similar one for humans around Sol, and keep away. But we aren’t building any walls, you understand. We’ll exchange ambassadors and cultural missions. A trade treaty will be negotiated in due time.

‘There. Does that satisfy you?’

Heim looked into the eyes of a man he had once believed honest with himself and said: No.’

‘Why not?’ Twyman asked most softly.

‘From a long-range viewpoint, your scheme ignores the nature of Alerion. They aren’t going to respect our sphere any longer than it takes them to consolidate the one you want to make them a present of. And I do mean a present – because until a trade treaty is agreed on, which I predict will be never, how can we spend any of that valuta they so generously pay over?’

‘Gunnar, I know friends of yours have died at Aleriona hands. But it’s given you a persecution complex.’

‘Trouble is, Harry,’ Heim stole from Vadász, ‘the persecution happens to be real. You’re the one living in a dream. You’re so obsessed with avoiding war that you’ve forgotten every other consideration. Including honor.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Twyman demanded.

‘New Europe was not missiled. The colonists are not dead. They’ve taken to the hills and are waiting for us to come help them.’

‘That isn’t so!’

‘I have the proof right here on my desk.’

‘You mean the documents that – that tramp forged?’

‘They aren’t forgeries. It can be proved. Signatures, fingerprints, photographs, the very isotope ratios in film made on New Europe. Harry, I never thought you’d sell out half a million human beings.’

‘I deny that I am doing so,’ Twyman said glacially. ‘You’re a fanatic,
Mister
Heim, that’s all. Even if it were true what you say … how do you propose to rescue anyone from a planet occupied and space-guarded? But it isn’t true. I’ve spoken to survivors whom the Aleriona brought here. You must have seen them yourself on 3V. They witnessed the bombardment.’

‘Hm. You recall where they were from?’

‘The Coeur d’Yvonne area. Everything else was wiped clean.’

‘So the Aleriona say,’ Heim retorted. ‘And doubtless the survivors believe it too. Any who didn’t would’ve been weeded out during interrogation. I say that Coeur d’Yvonne was the only place hit by a nuke. I say further that we can fight if we must, and win. A space war only; I’m not talking the nonsense about “attacking impregnable Alerion” which your tame commentators keep putting into the mouths of us “extremists”, and Earth is every bit as impregnable. I say further that if we move fast, with our full strength, we probably won’t have to fight. Alerion will crawfish. She isn’t strong enough to take us on … yet. I say further and finally that if we let down those people out there who’re trusting us, we’ll deserve everything that Alerion will eventually do to us.’ He tamped his smoldering pipe. ‘That’s my word, Senator.’

Twyman said, trembling: ‘Then my word, Heim, is that we’ve outgrown your kind of sabertooth militarism and I’m not going to let us be dragged back to that level. If you’re blasé enough to quote what I’ve told you here in confidence, I’ll destroy you. You’ll be in the Welfare district, or correction, within a year.’

‘Oh, no,’ Heim said. ‘I keep my oaths. The public facts can speak for themselves. I need only point them out.’

‘Go ahead, if you want to waste your money and reputation. You’ll be as big a laughingstock as the rest of the warhawk crowd.’

Taken aback, Heim grimaced. In the past weeks, after the
news of New Europe, he had seen what mass media did to those who spoke as he was now speaking. Those who were influential, that is, and therefore worth tearing down. Ordinary unpolitical people didn’t matter. The pundits simply announced that World Opinion Demanded Peace. Having listened to a good many men, from engineers and physicists to spacehands and mechanics, voice their personal feelings, Heim doubted if world opinion was being correctly reported. But he couldn’t see any way to prove that.

Conduct a poll, maybe? No. At best, the result would frighten some professors, who would be quick to assert that it was based on faulty statistics, and a number of their students, who would organize parades to denounce Heim the Monster.

Propaganda? Politicking? A Paul Revere Society? … Heim shook his head, blindly, and slumped.

Twyman’s face softened. ‘I’m sorry about this, Gunnar,’ he said. ‘I’m still your friend, you know. Regardless of where your next campaign donation goes. Call on me any time.’ He hesitated, decided merely to add ‘Good-by,’ and switched off.

Heim reached into his desk for a bottle he kept there. As he took it forth, his gaze crossed the model of
Star Fox
which his crew had given him when he retired. It was cast in steel retrieved from that Aleriona battlewagon into which the lancer put an atomic torpedo at Achenar.

I
wonder if the Aleriona make trophies of our wrecks
.

Hm. Odd. I never thought about it before. We know so little of them
. Heim put his feet on the desk and tilted the bottle to his lips.
Why don’t I corner one of their delegation and ask?

And then he choked on his drink and spluttered; his feet thumped to the floor, and he never noticed. The thought had been too startling.
Why not?

T
HE
ceiling glowed with the simulated light of a red dwarf sun, which lay like blood on leaves and vines and slowly writhing flowers. A bank of Terrestrial room instruments – phone, 3V, computer, vocascribe, infotrieve, service cubicle, environmental control board – stood in one corner of the jungle
with a harsh incongruity. The silence was as deep as the purple shadows. Unmoving, Cynbe waited.

The decompression chamber finished its cycle and Gunnar Heim stepped out. Thin dry atmosphere raked his throat. Even so, the fragrances overwhelmed him. He could not tell which of them – sweet, acrid, pungent, musky – came from which of the plants growing from wall to wall, reaching to the ceiling and arching down again in a rush of steel-blue leaves, exploding in banks of tawny, crimson, black, and violet blossoms. The reduced gravity seemed to give a lightness to his head as well as his frame. Feathery turf felt like rubber underfoot. The place was tropically warm; he sensed the infrared baking his skin.

He stopped and peered about. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the ember illumination. They were slower to see details of shapes so foreign to Earth.

‘
Imbiac dystra?
’ he called uncertainly. ‘My lord?’ His voice was muffled in that tenuous air.