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can."
Greenleaf operated the launching switch. There was a polyphonic whisper of
airlocks. The nine ships were gone, and simultaneously a holographic display
came alive above the operations officer's console. In the center of the
display the Judith showed as a fat green symbol, with nine smaller green dots
moving slowly and uncertainly nearby. Farther off, a steady formation of red
dots represented what was left of the berserker pack that had so long and so
relentlessly pursued the Hope and her escort. There were at least fifteen red
berserker dots, Malori noted gloomily.
"This trick," Greenleaf said as if to himself, "is to make them more afraid of
their own leaders than they are of the enemy." He keyed the panel switches
that would send his voice out to the ships. "Attention, units One through
Nine!" he barked. "You are under the guns of a vastly superior force, and any
attempt at disobedience or escape will be severely punished& "
He went on browbeating them for a minute, while Malori observed in the screen
that the dirty weather the berserker had mentioned was coming on. A sleet of
atomic particles was driving through this section of the nebula, across the
path of the Judith and the odd hybrid fleet that moved with her. The Hope, not
in view on this range scale, might be able to take advantage of the storm to
get away entirely unless the berserker pursuit was swift.
Visibility on the operations display was failing fast and Greenleaf cut off
his speech as it became apparent that contact was being lost.
Orders in the berserkers' unnatural voices, directed at auxiliary ships
One through Nine, came in fragmentarily before the curtain of noise became an
opaque white-out. The pursuit of the Hope had not yet
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Saberhagen, Fred - The Ultimate Enemy been resumed.
For a while all was silent on the operations deck, except for an occasional
crackle of noise from the display. All around them the empty launching cradles
waited.
"That's that," Greenleaf said at length. "Nothing to do now but worry." He
gave his little transforming smile again, and seemed to be almost enjoying the
situation.
Malori was looking at him curiously. "How do you manage to cope so well?"
"Why not?" Greenleaf stretched and got up from the now-useless console. "You
know, once a man gives up his old ways, badlife ways, admits he's really dead
to them, the new ways aren't so bad.
There are even women available from time to time, when the machines take
prisoners."
"Goodlife," said Malori. Now he had spoken the obscene, provoking epithet. But
at the moment he was not afraid.
"Goodlife yourself, little man." Greenleaf was still smiling. "You know, I
think you still look down on me. You're in as deep as I am now, remember?"
"I think I pity you."
Greenleaf let out a little snort of laughter, and shook his own head
pityingly. "You know, I may have ahead of me a longer and more pain-free life
than most of humanity has ever enjoyed you said one of the models for the
personae died at twenty-three. Was that a common age of death in those days?"
Malori, still clinging to his stanchion, began to wear a strange, grim little
smile. "Well, in his generation, in the continent of Europe, it was. The First
World War was raging at the time."
"But he died of some disease, you said."
"No. I said he had a disease, tuberculosis. Doubtless it would have killed him
eventually. But he died in battle, in 1917 CE, in a place called Belgium. His
body was never found, as I recall, an artillery barrage having destroyed it
and his aircraft entirely."
Greenleaf was standing very still. "Aircraft! What are you saying?"
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Malori pulled himself erect, somewhat painfully, and let go of his support. "I
tell you now that Georges Guynemer that was his name shot down fifty-three
enemy aircraft before he was killed.
Wait!" Malori's voice was suddenly loud and firm, and Greenleaf halted his
menacing advance in sheer surprise. "Before you begin to do anything violent
to me, you should perhaps consider whether your side or mine is likely to win
the fight outside."
"The fight& "
"It will be nine ships against fifteen or more machines, but I don't feel too
pessimistic. The personae we have sent out are not going to be meekly
slaughtered."
Greenleaf stared at him a moment longer, then spun around and lunged for the
operations console. The display was still blank white with noise and there was
nothing to be done. He slowly sank into the padded chair. "What have you done
to me?" he whispered. "That collection of invalid musicians you couldn't have
been lying about them all."
"Oh, every word I spoke was true. Not all World War One fighter pilots were
invalids, of course. Some were in perfect health, indeed fanatical about
staying that way. And I did not say they were all musicians, though I
certainly meant you to think so. Ball had the most musical ability among the
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aces, but was still only an amateur.
He always said he loathed his real profession."
Greenleaf, slumped in the chair now, seemed to be aging visibly.
"But one was blind& it isn't possible."
"So his enemies thought, when they released him from an internment camp early
in the war. Edward Mannock, blind in one eye. He had to trick an examiner to
get into the army. Of course the tragedy of these superb men is that they
spent themselves killing one another. In those days they had no beserkers to
fight, at least none that could be attacked dashingly, with an aircraft and a
machine gun. I suppose men have always faced berserkers of some kind."
"Let me make sure I understand." Greenleaf's voice was almost pleading. "We
have sent out the personae of nine fighter pilots?"
"Nine of the best. I suppose their total of claimed aerial victories is
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usually exaggerated, but still& "
There was silence again. Greenleaf slowly turned his chair back to face the
operations display. After a time the storm of atomic noise began to abate.
Malori, who had sat down on the deck to rest, got up again, this time more
quickly. In the hologram a single glowing symbol was emerging from the noise,
fast approaching the position of the Judith.
The approaching symbol was bright red.
"So there we are," said Greenleaf, getting to his feet. From a pocket he
produced a stubby little handgun. At first he pointed it toward the shrinking
Malori, but then he smiled his nice smile and shook his head. "No, let the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]