Barney shrugged and said defensively, “The Captain said any idea.”
“I did, and it’s a good one.” Harcourt raised a finger. “But how do we split off the enemy ship alone so that we can grapple and board it?”
Flip, Harry, Jolie, and Lorraine came filing in. “Board a Kilrathi?” Harry said. “What is this?”
“The Dumb Idea Session,” Billy told them, and they all nodded, understanding immediately.
Ramona only wished she did.
“So what do we do with it once we capture it?” Jolie asked.
“Take it in on a close approach to the planet,” Grounder explained.
Billy snorted. “They’d still atomize us once they found out we wouldn’t obey orders. For all they’d know, we could be a Cat psycho playing kamikaze.”
“One of their own men?” Barney asked.
Jolie shrugged. “Every race has insanity. At least, we have to assume that.”
“I haven’t seen a crazy Cat yet!”
“Me neither—but I’ve never seen a Cat myself, eye to eye, anyway.”
Grounder nodded. “Could be their mental cases get killed off in basic training.”
Ramona was chilled to see that nobody batted an eye at the idea—but she had to admit it made sense, from what they knew about the Kilrathi.
Harcourt turned to Ramona. “Any ideas about how they think?”
“The Psych boys have come up with a lot,” Ramona said slowly, “but no evidence of outright insanity yet. Of course, they wouldn’t, if their maniacs never get off the ground, just get locked up in hospitals.”
“Oh. The Kilrathi do let them live?” Flip asked, plainly skeptical.
“I didn’t say that,” Ramona admitted. “Neither did Psych. They suspect the ones who really can’t function just get killed off in the natural course of things.”
“So even in a stolen ship, we still get shot down,” Harcourt summarized. “Still, it gives us a better chance than we’ve got so far. As we are now, we wouldn’t get within a planetary diameter of Vukar Tag.”
“A big planet,” Lorraine said.
“As we are?” Coriander looked up. “Maybe we could change that—weld on some sheet metal cutouts that give us their silhouette. Save us the trouble of trying to capture one of them.”
“It would take time…” Harcourt began.
“Or… Wait!” Coriander snapped her fingers, both arms out, like a traffic cop. “If we’re going to talk about add-ons, let’s use asteroids! We’ve got plenty of ’em! One day, and I could weld on enough so that we’d look like just one big piece of space junk!”
“Good, as far as it goes,” Harcourt said judiciously. “We could get a lot closer—but they’d still shoot us down.”
“Not if we got close enough to the planet, they wouldn’t! They’d be worried about meteorites falling and kicking up so much dust that they’d have a desert in the sky instead of on the ground—so much that it would mask the sun and cut off their heat source, not to mention light for whatever few plants they manage to grow!”
“A good thought,” Harcourt said. “That one has possibilities. Let’s keep it in the file and see what we can add to it. Who’s next?”
Barney was, then Lorraine, then Coriander again, and finally, Ramona managed to come up with an option herself. “We could stuff a large asteroid with explosives and launch it out toward Vukar Tag with a time fuse,” she suggested. “While they’re busy checking it out, we could zip in and steal a few quick pix.” But she knew it was dumb even as she said it. “No. They’d only send a few ships, wouldn’t they? And there would be plenty more to jump us.”
“Still, the idea of a distraction is good,” Harcourt said. “Anybody got any other diversions that would get all of them?”
They did, but none of them were really very good. They all foundered on the rock of Kilrathi fanaticism—if something even looked as though it might come near the planet, the Kilrathi would be apt to blow it to smithereens first and try to figure out where it came from later.
After an hour, Harcourt saw the first faint signs of frustration and mental fatigue. “End of session for now.” He stretched. “My turn to get the coffee. Everyone take half an hour, then meet for dinner—and no talking over the situation until after dessert!”
But by the time they were done with dessert, he still hadn’t come up with a better idea. He wasn’t looking forward to the next skull session, as he tailed onto the line past the disposer to shove his tray in.
They filed past, then into the little lounge at the end of the wardroom. Harcourt sank into a recliner and looked around. “Anybody come up with anything new?”
They all shook their heads.
Anger burned within Ramona. She felt hopelessly inadequate, because she hadn’t been able to come up with anything but one very weak idea, while her shipmates had come up with a dozen. “Well, we have to do something,” she blurted.
“Yes, we do,” Harcourt sighed. “The longer we sit and wait, the better the chances that some random scan will find us. Since we haven’t thought of anything better, we’ll try Chief Coriander’s idea, and go in dressed up as an asteroid. Six hours shut-eye, folks. Then we start catching rocks and welding them. Billy, you have first watch.”
Breakfast the next morning was pretty tense, but it showed as much in bad jokes and too much laughter, as in snarling. Right after, Grounder caught Harcourt and Ramona both trying to suit up, and read them the riot act about their responsibilities to the ship, crew, and mission. Instead, Coriander, Harry, and Flip suited up to go out with, surprisingly enough, a very large butterfly net made of steel cables; Coriander had whipped it up before breakfast. Out they went, to start catching rocks.
They filed out through the small EVA hatch, onto the hull of the ship, fastening their safety lines to ringbolts, magnetic boots clamping firm. The four stood looking out at the surrounding night, admiring the view of shifting stars for a minute, before they got down to work.
Then Coriander stiffened. “What the hell is that?”
They were all silent, staring.
“Well, what is it?” Harcourt’s voice crackled on the headphones. “We can’t see anything in here that doesn’t give off a signal. What have you spotted?”
“It gave off a signal once,” Coriander said slowly, “lots of them. It’s a Venture-class corvette.”
The intercom was very silent for a moment.
Then Harcourt said, “You mean a Kilrathi Kamekh, don’t you?”
“No,” Coriander said. “I know my silhouettes, Captain—and this is more than a silhouette. It’s close enough so we can see a three-quarter profile. It’s a Confederation corvette, and the name on the bow is in Roman letters.”
Inside, the bridge was frozen. Then Harcourt asked, “What’s the name?”
“The John Bunyan,” Coriander answered.
“Pilgrim’s Progress,” Ramona whispered.
“This pilgrim did make some progress, all right,” Harcourt said, “but not enough. What kind of shape is she in, Coriander?”
“She’s a wreck, Captain. Half of the tail is shot away, holes in it big enough to dock a Ferret… I can’t see from here, but I think the vision port is gone; at least, it’s not reflecting any light. She’s dead, Captain. And she died hard. Probably fled this far, and hid in here to lick her wounds.”
Harcourt could envision it—a lone Confederation ship, its panicked crew holding onto composure and sanity by their fingernails, space suits closed against vacuum, hoping, waiting frantically for a rescue, while around the asteroid belt, dozens of Kilrathi fighters hovered, waiting for them to come back out.