"If it's here, I don't see it, and you don't hide a starship."
"Maybe it went away again. We have burned several dozen of Mother's best ships. Can we turn this off?"
"Sure," Worthing said, and the radio fell silent. Instead, Worthing leaned back on his chair and began the other kind of contact with all nineteen of the ship's captains in his fleet.
We're in a precarious position, they told him.
Agreed, he answered.
We're nearly out of supplies. We've been playing this game for two hundred years. These ships were meant to put into port.
Then we must certainly get our supplies here, Worthing replied.
They're resisting. That must mean they're expecting an imperial fleet soon.
This much is obvious.
Well, then, Captain Worthing, what the bloody hell are we going to do?
We, my dear friends, are going to scare their little heads off.
And if they don't scare?
Then we're in trouble, yes?
Second Exchange
From: SWIP-e33
To: Our unwise planetside friends
We are a fully equipped fleet. We do not ask, we demand supplies within 24 hours, with unencumbered right to land, or we will be forced to use our armaments against you. There isn't a weapon you have that can harm us. We can defeat any imperial fleet, in case you're expecting rescue. You know who we are. You know what we can do. Our patience is not infinite.
From: Authority
To: The rebels
We don't want any trouble. We know that you can't land anything if we don't want it to land, and we know you don't have any armaments that work against planets. It's a stalemate. So why don't you just go away?
"They aren't going," said the colonel to Governor Pock.
"I wish they would," sighed Pock, genuinely distressed.
"Maybe they aren't going because they don't have enough supplies to go on to anyplace else."
"I'm quite sure that's precisely why they're staying, Colonel. But that doesn't change our situation one bit. Do you know what Mother has done to the other governors who've cooperated in any way-- in any way-- with the rebels?"
"It's practically a humanitarian decision. They need supplies. They need water for the engines. We have eighteen oceans, among the three planets. Why not let them down?"
"Do you know what they've done to the chief military officer wherever the rebels have received cooperation?"
The colonel shook his head.
"Governors just lose their jobs and their somec. Soldiers get shot, Colonel."
"They aren't really doing that, are they?"
"On six planets. I'm just very grateful that radio has finally got ahead of them. At least we're warned. And the message said that the imperial fleet would be getting here momentarily."
"Which could mean anytime this year."
"What else do you propose? The only weapon the rebels have that could hurt us is the fusion bomb, and that would burn over the entire planet-- all the planets. They'd never use that. No one has ever systematically killed all the civilians. So we're safe. We'll just sit here and let the fleet come and take care of them and we'll never have to get involved at all."
And, very pleased with himself, Governor Pock closed his eyes to rest. The colonel left.
In the observatories, radioscopes began noting the arrival of a large group of starships. The fleet was already here.
Third Exchange:
From: INFL-c89
To: Rebel fleet SWIP-e33
Surrender. You are outnumbered, out of supplies, unable to maneuver, and we can outwait you. Why prolong matters? Captain, Fit Treece.
From: Homer
To: Fit
You know us, Fit. Hell, I saved your life a few times. You know what the bastards tried to do to us. We've proved by now that we have no intention of joining the enemy-- or of surrendering to Mother. So why not just let us go off on our own and forget this stupid war?
From: INFL-c89
To: Rebel fleet SWIP-e33
Her Imperial Majesty cannot brook rebellion. But if you surrender, by jettisoning crews in landers, and blowing up the ships behind you, you will receive a fair and lenient trial, and perhaps the death penalty can be avoided. Certainly we can refrain from confiscating property. And we can wait forever. We are fully supplied.
They've got us in a box, Worthing thought to the others.
We've got to do something. You know the bastards'll kill us if they catch us. We're the only rebellion in history that's lasted more than a day. We've lasted two centuries. They've got to make an example of us.
But there's nothing we can do, Worthing answered.
We can threaten to burn the damn planets.
But we'd never do it. Why make threats we'll never carry out? Besides, they know as well as we do that if we burn the planets, we can't get water from them, and then what have we accomplished?
Then let's threaten to burn one. The others'll go along.
Worthing refused, adamantly, shouting, if it were possible. Never. No. That is an atrocity and I won't brook it. If we do that, we don't deserve to survive.
What about me? one captain asked. I'm going to be out of fuel in a couple of days. What about me?
I don't know, Worthing answered.
Maybe they don't mean it. Surely they wouldn't shoot us down.
Surely. Are you willing to risk your life to find out?
Long pause in the thought conversation. A turmoil of emotions. Then:
Yeah. I'm willing.
And so the huge fueling craft broke away from the payload section of the ship-- huge, in relation to the antlike man inside, who was the whole crew of the ship and the fueling craft. In relation to the starship itself, of course, the fueler was absurdly small.
The fueler descended gracefully into the atmosphere of Harper Moon, the smallest of the three planets. It was instantly detected by the radar watch of the system military authority. "Well, Governor Pock, will you give the order?"
"I don't want to do it, dammit! Why should a peaceful little system like ours have to kill a man?"
"Because the damned rebels will be out of the sky sometime soon anyway, and the imperial fleet will be here forever!"
"All right, then. Kill him." And Pock left the room, furious at having been compelled to make such a decision. He was trained to administer a vast network of bureaucracy. He was not trained to cope with an interstellar rebellion by Mother's most brilliant ship captains.
The radars locked in. The missiles were launched. They intercepted the relatively slower fueler long before it reached the ocean. It erupted in a ball of flame. No particles large enough to notice survived to reach the ocean.
He's dead, Homer pointed out unnecessarily to the others.
I didn't think they'd do it, the bastards, someone else commented.
I say tell 'em we'll burn 'em. If they plan to take part in the war, then let's bring it right to home.
We won't burn anybody.
But we can sure as hell say we'll burn 'em, can't we?
Fourth Exchange
From: SWIP-e33
To: The assassins on Harper system
You're not the only ones who can kill. We now have fusion devices ready to launch at Harper Moon. You have four hours to grant permission for fuelers to land or we will burn the planet.
From: Authority
To: The rebels
Look, we warned you. Please go away. Surrender or something. How can we put it any plainer? You can't get onto the planet. Burning the planets, even if you would really do it, would accomplish nothing-- how could you get any water then? And you'd be hunted to the ends of the universe. No one will ever forgive planet burners. Right now, you might very well be forgiven.
"That communique was pathetic," the colonel told the governor.
"What, I should have been formal?" Pock retorted. "Official language doesn't communicate. I just want this whole thing to go away."