Prisoners of Tomorrow (109 page)

“Hanlon’s got him,” Bernard said to the screen that was showing Kath. “He looks as if he’s all right. They’ve got Swyley too. He seems okay.”

Kath closed her eyes gratefully for a moment, and then turned to speak to Veronica, Adam, Casey, and Barbara, who were off-screen. “They’ve found Steve. He’s all right.”

Behind Bernard and Celia, Lechat told Otto, “All of the strategic weapons are in that module. The remainder of this ship represents no threat whatsoever.”

“We are aware of that,” Otto said.

“We had to try,” Wellesley insisted from beside Lechat. “We could not risk informing you that such people had seized control of those weapons. The decision was mine and nobody else’s.”

“I think I’d have done the same thing,” Otto told him.

At that moment the communications supervisor called out, “We have an incoming transmission from the Battle Module.” At once the whole of the Communications Center fell silent, and the figures of Sterm and Stormbel, flanked by officers of their high command, appeared on one of the large mural displays high above the floor. Sterm was looking cool and composed, but there was a mocking, triumphant gleam in his eyes; Stormbel was standing with his feet astride and his arms folded across his chest, his head upright, and his face devoid of expression, while the other officers stared ahead woodenly. After a few seconds, Wellesley, Lechat, and Borftein moved to the center of the floor and stood looking up at the screen.

Celia’s face had drawn itself into a tight, bloodless mask as she stared at the image of Sterm. “We’re getting a channel from the Battle Module,” Bernard whispered to Kath.

“I know,” Kath told him. “He’s through to Otto and Chester as well via one of our relay satellites. It’s a three-way hookup.”

“A good try, Wellesley,” Sterm said from the large screen. “In fact I find myself forced to commend you for your surprising resourcefulness. Unfortunately from your point of view, however, we now see it was in vain.” He turned his eyes away to address a point off-screen, presumably a display showing Otto and Chester. “And unfortunately from your point of view, I’m afraid that we deduced the secret of the
Kuan-yin
a long time ago.”

“Bernard,” Kath said quietly from the console screen.

He turned his head back to look at her. “Yes?”

“Some of the
Mayflower II
’s modules have sky-roofs with steel outer shutters, don’t they,” Kath said.

Bernard frowned uncomprehendingly. “Yes . . . Why . . . What—”

Kath’s voice remained low but took on a note of urgency. “Make sure all of them are closed. Do it now.” Bernard shook his head, mystified, and started asking questions again. “Just do it,” Kath said, cutting him off. “There might not be much time.”

Bernard stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded and looked at the communications operator sitting by Celia. “Can you get Admiral Slessor on line here?” The operator nodded and sat forward to begin entering a code.

From the center of the floor Wellesley asked, “What do you want?”

“Good.” Sterm nodded approvingly. “I detect a cooperative disposition.” He turned his face toward the Chironians. “I take it that we are all beginning to understand one another.”

“We’re listening,” Otto replied tonelessly.

“Perhaps it would be of benefit if I were to summarize the situation that now exists,” Sterm suggested. “We command a complete strategic arsenal, the potency of which I do not have to spell out to you, and the only weapon capable of opposing us is now neutralized. Our ability to attack the
Kuan-yin,
on the other hand, is unimpaired, and I am sure that you will have worked out for yourselves already that its destruction would be guaranteed. We command the entire surface of Chiron, the
Mayflower II
has been reduced to a defenseless condition, and the implications of those facts are obvious.”

Sterm allowed a few seconds for his words to sink in, and then made a slight tossing motion with his hands as if to convey to those watching him the hopelessness of their position. “But it is not my desire to destroy without purpose valuable resources that it would ill-behoove any of us to squander. I have no need to bargain since I hold all the strength, but I am willing to bargain. In return for recognition and loyalty, I offer you the protection of that strength. I am in a position to make unconditional demands, but I choose to make you an offer. So, you see, my terms are not ungenerous.”

“Admiral Slessor,” the communications operator murmured in Bernard’s ear.

Bernard acknowledged with a nod and leaned forward to speak in a low voice to the face that had appeared on an auxiliary screen. “This is urgent, Admiral. Make sure that all the sky-roof outer shutters are closed immediately.”

Slessor recognized Bernard as one of Merrick’s former officers. “Why?” he asked, looking puzzled. “What are you doing there . . . Fallows, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure why, but it’s important . . . from the Chironians.”

Slessor’s brow furrowed more deeply. He hesitated, thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Very well, I’ll see it’s done.” He moved away from view.

“That’s a strange offer,” Otto said to Sterm. “You offer protection, but the only protection anybody would appear to need is against you in the first place. After all, you’ve just told us that you hold all the weapons. You seem to entertain a curious notion of logic.”

For the first time a hint of anger flashed across Sterm’s face. “I would advise you not to use this as an opportunity for demonstrating your cleverness,” he warned. He allowed himself a moment to calm down. Then he resumed speaking more slowly. “Earth is tearing itself apart because it has failed to produce the strong leader who would crush”—Sterm raised a hand and closed his fist in front of his face—” the petty rivalries and jealousies which throughout history have frustrated any chance of expression of the full potential grandeur of collective unity and power. Earth has always been in turmoil because it has inherited a legacy of chaos of global proportions against which the efforts of even its most capable organizers have been of no avail. Is that the future that you would wish upon Chiron?

“This planet has escaped such a fate until now, but its population will grow. It has a chance to profit from what Earth has learned, and to plant the seeds of a strong, unified, and unshakable order now, before the diseases of disunity have had a chance to germinate and become virulent. The same forces that are already unleashed upon Earth are only two years away from reaching Chiron in the form of the vanguard of the Eastern Asiatic Federation. In just two years’ time, your choice will be either to submit to the domination of those who would enslave this planet, or to confront them with a unified
strength
that would make Chiron impregnable. Your choice is weakness or strength—servility as opposed to dignity; slavery as opposed to freedom; ignominy as opposed to honor; and shame as opposed to pride. Weakness or strength. I offer the latter alternatives.”

Sterm’s eyes took on a distant light, and his breathing quickened visibly. “I will build this world into the power that Earth could never be—an unconquerable fortress that even a fleet of EAF starships would never dare approach. I will build for you the first-ever stellar empire here at Centauri, one people united under one leader . . . united in will, united in action, and united in purpose. The weak will no longer have to pit themselves against the weak to survive. The weak will be protected by the strength that will come from that unity, and by that same unity the strong who protect them will be invincible. That . . . is what I offer to share.”

“Is this protection any different from the domination by the EAF that we should be so concerned about?” Chester asked.

Sterm looked displeased at the response. “Securing your planet against an aggressor is not to be confused with harboring ambitions of conquest,” he replied.

Otto shook his head. “If Earth is tearing itself apart, it is because its people allowed themselves to believe the same self-fulfilling prophecies that you are asking us to accept, Mr. Sterm. But we reject them. We need no more protection from you against the people in the EAF starship than they need from their Sterms to protect them against us. We have no need of that kind of strength. Is it strength for neighbors to fortify their homes against each other, or is it paranoia? You must feel very insecure to wish to fortify an entire star system.”

Sterm’s mouth clamped into a grim, downturned line. “The EAF is committed to a dogma of conquest,” he said. “They understand no language apart from force. You cannot hope to deal with them by any other means.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Sterm, they understand the same language that people everywhere speak,” Chester said. “We will deal with them in the same way that we have already dealt with you.”

“And exactly what is that supposed to mean?” Sterm demanded.

Otto smiled humorlessly. “Take a look at the other lunatics around you,” he suggested. “What happened to all the people? Where did your army go? They’re all Chironians now. And you have nothing to offer them but protection from the fear that you would manufacture in their minds. But they have Chironian minds. They see that the fear is your fear, not theirs; and it is you who are in need of protection, not they.”

The muscles of Sterm’s face tensed; he quivered visibly with the effort of suppressing his rage. “I was willing to bargain,” he grated. “Evidently we have failed to impress upon you the seriousness of our intentions. Very well, you leave me no further choice. Perhaps a demonstration will serve to convince you.” He turned to Stormbel. “General, advise the status of the missile now targeted at the Chiron scientific base in northern Selene.”

“Primed and ready for immediate launch,” Stormbel replied in a monotone. “Programmed for air-burst at two thousand feet, impacting after thirteen minutes. Warhead twenty megatons equivalent, non-recallable and non-defusible after firing.”

“Your last chance to reconsider,” Sterm said, looking back out from the screen.

“We have nothing to reconsider,” Otto replied calmly.

Sterm’s face darkened, and his mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. His suave veneer seemed to peel away as his eyes widened, and for an instant, even from where he was sitting, Bernard found himself looking directly into the depths of a mind that was completely insane. He shivered involuntarily. Beside him Celia gripped his arm. “General,” Sterm ordered. “Launch the missile in sixty seconds.”

Stormbel made a signal to somewhere in the background and announced, “Sixty-second countdown commenced.”

“The countdown can be halted at any time,” Sterm informed them.

Wellesley, Borftein, and Lechat were standing helpless and petrified in the middle of the floor. “He’ll do it,” Celia whispered, horrified, to Bernard.

Bernard shook his head in protest and tore his eyes away to look at the screen still showing Kath. “You can’t let this happen,” he implored. “Those are your own people up there in Selene. This will just be the first example. Then it’ll get worse.”

“We don’t intend to let it happen,” Kath said.

“But you are. What can you do to stop it?”

“You’ve already worked most of that out.”

Bernard shook his head again. “I don’t know what you mean. The
Kuan-yin
can’t fire effectively. It’s eclipsed from the Battle Module.”

“It couldn’t fire anyway,” Kath replied. “It’s modifications aren’t completed yet. We’ve already told you that.”

Bernard frowned at her in bemusement. Nothing was making any sense. “But—its antimatter drive . . . that’s your weapon, isn’t it?”

“We never said it was,” Kath replied. “You assumed it. So did Sterm.” Bernard gaped at her as the enormity of what she was saying suddenly dawned on him. Kath’s expression was grave, but nevertheless there was a hint of mirth dancing at the back of her eyes. “We could hardly disguise our scientific work,” she said. “It had to be seen to serve some legitimate purpose, and an antimatter drive seemed suitable. But the
Kuan-yin
project has been low down on our list of priorities.”

Bernard’s eyes widened incredulously. “But if the
Kuan-yin
isn’t finished, then what made the crater in Remus?”

“Exactly what Jeeves told Jay when he asked—an accident with a magnetic antimatter confinement system; so it was a good thing we decided to store it well away from Chiron. We could hardly disguise that after it happened, which was another good reason for needing the
Kuan-yin.”

“
We—we never believed that story,” Bernard said weakly.

“Well, that was up to you. We told you.”

Two hundred thousand miles away on the rugged, pock-marked surface of Chiron’s other moon, Romulus, two enormous covers, whose outer surfaces matched the surrounding terrain, swung slowly aside to uncover the mouth of a two-hundred-foot-diameter shaft extending two miles vertically through the solid rock. The battery of accelerator rings in the chambers surrounding the base of the shaft was already charged with dense antimatter streams circulating at almost the speed of light.

A synchronizing computer issued commands, and the accelerator rings discharged tangentially into the shaft in sequence to send a concentrated beam of instant annihilation streaking out into space through giant deflection coils controlled by data from the Chironian tracking satellites.

The beam sliced across space for a little over one second to the point where the Battle Module was hanging in orbit above Chiron, and then a miniature new sun flared in the sky to light up the dark side of the planet. The flash of gamma rays ionized the upper atmosphere, and the sky above Chiron glowed in streaks that extended for thousands of miles. Sensitive radiation-monitoring instruments were burned out all over the outside of the
Mayflower II
, and because of the electrical upheaval, it was twelve hours before communications with the surface could be resumed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Wellesley stood to deliver his final address from in front of the Mission Director’s seat at the center of the raised dais facing out over the Congressional Hall of the
Mayflower II
’s
Government Center. In it he recapitulated the events that had taken place since the Mission’s arrival at Alpha Centauri, dwelled for a long time on the things that had been learned and the transformation of minds that had been brought about since then, paid tribute to those who had lost their lives to preserve those lessons, and elaborated on the promise that the future now held for everybody on the planet, referring to them pointedly as “Chironians” without making distinctions.