Then--the massed Grand Fleet of Janya--a flick of the main
switch--man-killing energies would flood the cruiser's interior, and
only corpses would remain aboard. Dead men and the robots that would
open fire on the Fleet. This one ship could ruin all the barbarian
hopes in a few bursts of incredible flame. And the robots could then be
set to destroy her as well, lest by some chance the remaining Janyards
manage to board her.
And we--we can escape in the initial confusion, Daryesh. We can give
orders to the robot to spare the captain's gig, and we can get Joana
aboard and head for Sol! There'll be no one left to pursue!
Slowly, the Vwyrddan's thought made reply: A good plan. Yes, a bold
stroke. We'll do it!
"What's the matter, Daryesh?" Joana's voice was suddenly anxious. "You
look--"
"Just thinking, that's all. Never think, Captain Rostov. Bad for the
brain."
Later, as he kissed her, Laird felt ill at thought of the treachery
he planned. Her friends, her world, her cause--wiped out in a single
shattering blow, and he would have struck it. He wondered if she would
speak to him ever again, once it was over.
Daryesh, the heartless devil, seemed only to find a sardonic amusement
in the situation.
And later, when Laird slept, Daryesh thought that the young man's
scheme was good. Certainly he'd fall in with it. It would keep Laird
busy till they were at the Grand Fleet rendezvous. And after that
it would be too late. The Janyard victory would be sealed. All he,
Daryesh, had to do when the time came was keep away from that master
switch. If Laird tried to reach it their opposed wills would only
result in nullity--which was victory for Janya.
He liked this new civilization. It had a freshness, a vigor and
hopefulness which he could not find in Laird's memories of Earth. It
had a tough-minded purposefulness that would get it far. And being
young and fluid, it would be amenable to such pressures of psychology
and force as he chose to apply.
Vwyrdda, his mind whispered. Vwyrdda, we'll make them over in your
image. You'll live again!
* * * * *
Grand Fleet!
A million capital ships and their auxiliaries lay marshaled at a dim
red dwarf of a sun, massed together and spinning in the same mighty
orbit. Against the incandescent whiteness of stars and the blackness
of the old deeps, armored flanks gleamed like flame as far as eyes
could see, rank after rank, tier upon tier, of titanic sharks swimming
through space--guns and armor and torpedoes and bombs and men to smash
a planet and end a civilization. The sight was too big, imagination
could not make the leap, and the human mind had only a dazed impression
of vastness beyond vision.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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