He turned his brilliant gaze toward Eff and Chak’ha.
“All of us aboard here,” he said slowly, “have dreamed about fighting when the time comes. Isn’t that so, friends?”
For a moment, Eff and Chak’ha stared back at Luhon as if in astonishment at finding themselves directly addressed by him. Then together they made the individual body movements that were the equivalent of a human nod.
“Yes,” said Eff. The rough frankness of his usual voice was slowed and more solemn now. “For me—yes. And Chak’ha, here, says yes. If we four feel that way, I’d think the others would feel that way, too.”
“They will, I think,” said Luhon. “We’re a great deal alike, all of us on this ship—more alike than we like to think, considering the differences of body and mind among us. But at least we’re alike in being different from those Center Aliens. They don’t have feelings, as we do.” He turned to Miles. “Isn’t that true, friend Miles?”
“They don’t feel the way we do, that’s certain,” said Miles grimly.
“Then it’s settled,” said Luhon. “I abdicate in favor of you, Miles. For the rest, I think they’ll all be glad to join us. If not”—he did not smile (perhaps he could not with the muscles in his gray face), but a touch of humor sped from him like a ripple over the surface of a pond to break against Miles’ emotional perceptions—“we’ll make them. If there’s anything I can do to make it more sure that my people at home survive the Horde, I won’t stop at knocking a few heads together here.”
“I don’t believe it’ll be necessary,” said Miles. “But let’s see.”
It was just beginning to sink into him now that Luhon had actually given way, had stepped down and allowed him, Miles, to take top position aboard the Fighting Rowboat. The reaction had begun a warm glow that seemed to spread out from the center of his body, soothing all his hurts and aches and clearing his head amazingly. “Let’s get them all together in the lounge now and talk to them.”
“Yes,” said Luhon, “let’s go to the lounge.”
They went. As they entered the lounge, with Eff and Chak’ha abreast, followed by Luhon beside Miles, and moved to stand together in one corner from which they could survey the rest of the room, the eyes of everyone else there turned to them.
“Get everyone here,” said Luhon, raking the room with his eyes. His gaze fastened on Vouhroi, who was closest to the corridor leading back to the crew quarters. “You, Vouhroi, go back and bring everybody else up here.”
Vouhroi went. The silence in the lounge continued unbroken. The eyes of those there remained fixed on the four standing in the corner. For the first time a small doubt crawled through the lower level of Miles’ mind. They were four combined now—three who were the top three in physical abilities aboard the ship plus Chak’ha, who was least. But with the breakdown of the old pecking order anything was possible. What if, seeing this combination of four, the others of the nineteen remaining moved to combine themselves in an opposing group? Suddenly, he was glad of Luhon’s willingness to fight for their plans if necessary.
Five other crew members, followed by Vouhroi, filed into the lounge and filled up the empty chairs, with the exception of those chairs belonging to Miles and his three companions. They sat still, looking at Luhon.
“Miles just conquered me,” said Luhon. “So he’s on top now aboard this ship. He believes, and we with him here agree, that from now on things are going to be different.” He glanced aside at Miles. “Tell them, Miles.”
“There isn’t going to be any more fighting among ourselves,” said Miles, looking around at the different alien faces. “From now on we’re going to work together, and we’re going to make the Fighting Rowboat into a ship that can actually go into battle against the Silver Horde when it comes.”
A small sound came murmuring from the rest of the crew members, like the sound of wind through the swaying branches of a grove of trees. It was a combination of sounds, in many verbal ways, of astonishment and disbelief.
“I know!” said Miles swiftly. “The Center Aliens don’t think we can do it. But I think we can. Have any of you gotten close to those weapons and felt what they’re like with the sensing part of your minds? They’re cold ! We’d have to work with them to warm them up. But who knows what they’d be like if they were warmed up?”
He looked around at them.
“We come from fighting races, all of us,” he said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have fought among ourselves the way we did. Now, who among you doesn’t want to fight the Silver Horde if you get the chance?”
All through the lounge there was silence. No one moved; no one replied.
“None of you!” said Miles. “Of course, if that’s the case, what’ve you got to lose by going along with me? Let’s see if this ship and all of us, working together, can’t make a fighting unit that the Center Aliens will let join them when the time comes to face the Silver Horde.”
He paused. They still looked at him, neither assenting nor dissenting.
“All right,” said Miles slowly. “Is there anyone here who won’t go along with the rest of us in doing this?”
Beside and behind Miles, Luhon, with Eff and Chak’ha, moved forward a step.
No one spoke. For a moment Miles was tempted to let it go at that. Then some inner instinct warned him that he needed to force his listeners into a positive statement of agreement, rather than just a passive acceptance of his plans.
“Those who’re ready to go to work at once,” he said, “take a step forward.”
There was a pause, a rustle of movement; then Vouhroi stood up. One by one and in groups they all rose from their chairs and stepped toward Miles.
“Good!” said Miles. He kept his voice calm, but triumph sang inside him. “Now let’s find out what it takes to operate this ship and her weapons!” he said. “I’ll go to the control room. With me will be Luhon as my second-in-command and Eff as my third-in-command. Chak’ha will join the rest of you on the weapons. Scatter around the ship now, find yourselves weapons, and try to warm them up.”
Without waiting for any sign of assent from them, Miles turned and strode from the room toward the passageway, the corridor leading to the control room in the vessel’s bow. He heard footfalls behind him and knew that Luhon, Eff, and Chak’ha were following, while a general confused sound of voices and movement behind him indicated that at least some of the rest of the crew were obeying. He led the way up into the control room and paused before the central of the three seats that faced the control console under the large vision screen with its view of the blackness of intergalactic space.
“We’ll have to practice, too,” he muttered, as much to himself as to the three others, who had followed him in.
“Shall I show you how, friend Miles?” murmured the soft voice of Luhon in his ear. Miles turned sharply to face the gray-skinned alien.
“Do you know something about this I don’t?” Miles asked. “The information about these controls was evidently put into me by the Center Aliens when they first took me over.”
“So it was in me—in all of us,” answered Luhon, unperturbed. “But you have to remember I’ve fought with the ship thousands of times, and you haven’t.”
Miles stared at him. Another ripple of amusement sped from Luhon to break against Miles’ perception.
“What do you think I’ve been doing up here all alone, all this time?’ asked Luhon. “Thousands of times, in my imagination, I’ve fought this ship against the Silver Horde—never believing it would actually ever happen, that I would really fight her. You know the controls, friend Miles, as well as I do,but I know the ship better than you do.”