Flandry shook hands with the other Terran, who had been in charge of the first sneak expedition to Ardazir. They sat down. Flandry started a cigaret. “D’you find the place all right?” he asked.
“No trouble,” said Sugimoto. “Once you’d given me the correlation between their astronomical tables and ours, and explained the number system, it was elementary. Their star’s not in our own catalogues, because it’s on the other side of that dark nebula and there’s never been any exploration that way. So you’ve saved us maybe a year of search. Incidentally, when the war’s over the scientists will be interested in the nebula. Seen from the other side, it’s faintly luminous: a proto-sun. No one ever suspected that Population One got that young right in Sol’s own galactic neighborhood! Must be a freak, though.”
Flandry stiffened. “What’s the matter?” snapped Walton.
“Nothing, sir. Or maybe something. I don’t know. Go on, Commander.”
“No need to repeat in detail,” said Walton. “You’ll see the full report. Your overall picture of Ardazirho conditions, gained from your interrogations, is accurate. The sun is an A4 dwarf — actually no more than a dozen parsecs from here. The planet is terrestroid, biggish, rather dry, quite mountainous, three satellites. From all indications — you know the techniques, sneak landings, long-range telescopic spying, hidden cameras, random samples — the Urdahu hegemony is recent and none too stable.”
“One of our xenologists spotted what he swore was a typical rebellion,” said Sugimoto. “To me, his films are merely a lot of red hairy creatures in one kind of clothes, firing with gunpowder weapons at a modern-looking fortress where they wear different clothes. The sound track won’t mean a thing till your boys translate for us. But the xenologist says there are enough other signs to prove it’s the uprising of a backward tribe against more civilized conquerors.”
“A chance, then, to play them off against each other,” nodded Flandry. “Of course, before we can hope to do that, Intelligence must first gather a lot more information. Advertisement.”
“Have you anything to add, Captain?” asked Walton. “Anything you learned since your last progress report?”
“No, sir,” said Flandry. “It all hangs together pretty well. Except, naturally, the main question. The Urdahu couldn’t have invented all the modern paraphernalia that gave them control of Ardazir. Not that fast. They were still in the early nuclear age, two decades ago. Somebody supplied them, taught them, and sent them out a-conquering. Who?”
“Ymir,” said Walton flatly. “Our problem is, are the Ymirites working independently, or as allies of Merseia?”
“Or at all?” murmured Flandry.
“Hell and thunder! The Ardazirho ships and heavy equipment have Ymirite lines. The governor of Ogre ties up half our strength simply by refusing to speak. A Jovian colonist tried to murder you when you were on an official mission, didn’t he?”
“The ships could be made that way on purpose, to mislead us,” said Flandry. “You know the Ymirites are not a courteous race: even if they were, what difference would it make, since we can’t investigate them in detail? As for my little brush with Horx—”
He stopped. “Commander,” he said slowly, “I’ve learned there are Jovoid planets in the system of Ardazir. Is any of them colonized?”
“Not as far as I could tell,” said Sugimoto. “Of course, with that hot sun … I mean, we wouldn’t colonize Ardazir, so Ymir—”
“The sun doesn’t make a lot of difference when atmosphere gets that thick,” said Flandry. “My own quizzing led me to believe there are no Ymirite colonies anywhere in the region overrun by Ardazir. Don’t you think, if they had interests there at all, they’d live there?”
“Not necessarily.” Walton’s fist struck the desk. “Everything’s ‘not necessarily,’ ” he growled, like a baited lion. “We’re righting in a fog. If we made an all-out attack anywhere, we’d expose ourselves to possible Ymirite action. This fleet is stronger than the Ardazirho force around Vixen — but weaker than the entire fleet of the whole Ardazirho realm — yet if we pulled in reinforcements from Syrax, Merseia would gobble up the Cluster! But we can’t hang around here forever, either, waiting for somebody’s next move!”
He stared at his big knobbly hands. “We’ll send more spies to Ardazir,” he rumbled. “Of course some’ll get caught, and then Ardazir will know we know, and they’ll really exert themselves against us … By God, maybe the one thing to do is smash them here at Vixen, immediately, and then go straight to Ardazir and hope enough of our ships survive long enough to sterilize the whole hell-planet!”
Kit leaped to her feet. “No!” she screamed.
Flandry forced her down again. Walton looked at her with eyes full of anguish. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I know it would be the end of Vixen. I don’t want to be a butcher at Ardazir either … all their little cubs, who never heard about war — But what can I do?”
“Wait,” said Flandry. “I have a hunch.”
Silence fell, layer by layer, until the cabin grew thick with it. Finally Walton asked, most softly: “What is it, Captain?”
Flandry stared past them all. “Maybe nothing,” he said. “Maybe much. An expression some of the Ardazirho use: the Sky Cave . It’s some kind of black hole. Certain of their religions make it the entrance to hell. Could it be — I remember my friend Svantozik too. I surprised him, and he let out an oath which was not stock. Great unborn planets. Svantozik ranks high. He knows more than any other Ardazirho we’ve met. It’s little enough to go on, but … can you spare me a flotilla, Admiral?”
“Probably not,” said Walton. “And it couldn’t sneak off. One ship at a time, yes, we can get that out secretly. But several … The enemy would detect their wake, notice which way they were headed, and wonder. Or wouldn’t that matter in this case?”
“I’m afraid it would.” Flandry paused. “Well, sir, can you lend me a few men? I’ll take my own flitter. If I’m not back soon, do whatever seems best.”
He didn’t want to go. It seemed all too likely that the myth was right and the Sky Cave led to hell. But Walton sat watching him, Walton who was one of the last brave and wholly honorable men in all Terra’s Empire. And Kit watched him too.
XVI
He would have departed at once, but a stroke of luck — about time, he thought ungratefully — made him decide to wait another couple of days. He spent them on the Hooligan, not telling Kit he was still with the fleet. If she knew he had leisure, he would never catch up on some badly needed sleep.
The fact was that the Ardazirho remained unaware that any human knew their language, except a few prisoners and the late Dominic Flandry. So they were sending all messages in clear. By now Walton had agents on Vixen, working with the underground, equipped to communicate undetected with his fleet. Enemy transmissions were being monitored with growing thoroughness. Flandry remembered that Svantozik had been about to leave, and requested a special lookout for any information on this subject. A scanner was adjusted to spot that name on a recording tape. It did so; the contents of the tape were immediately relayed into space; and Flandry listened with sharp interest to a playback.
It was a normal enough order, relating to certain preparations. Mindhunter Svantozik of the Janneer Ya was departing for home as per command. He would not risk being spotted and traced back to Ardazir by some Terran, so would employ only a small ultra-fast flitter. (Flandry admired his nerve. Most humans would have taken at least a Meteor class boat.) The hour and date of his departure were given, in Urdahu terms.
“Rally ’round,” said Flandry. The Hooligan glided into action.
He did not come near Vixen. That was the risky business of the liaison craft. He could predict the exact manner of Svantozik’s takeoff: there was only one logical way. The flitter would be in the middle of a squadron, which would roar spaceward on a foray. At the right time, Svantozik would give his own little boat a powerful jolt of primary drive; then, orbiting with cold engines away from the others, let distance accumulate. When he felt sure no Terran had spied him, he would go cautiously on gravs until well clear — then switch over into secondary and exceed the velocity of light. So small a craft, so far away from Walton’s bases, would not be detected: especially with enemy attention diverted by the raiding squadron.