"I see that."
"Do you see that, no matter how you tried to mask yourself by Saturn's rings or by Saturn itself, your metal mass gave you away each time? There is no metal at all in the rings or in the outer ten thousand miles of Saturn's surface. Even within Mimas you weren't hidden. For some hours we thought you were done with. We could detect metal under the ice of Mimas, and that might have been the remains of your splintered ship. But then the metal started moving and we knew you were still with us. We guessed your fusion trick and had only to wait."
Lucky nodded. "So far the game is yours." "And now do you think we won't find the capsule, even if it wanders into the rings or was placed in the rings in the first place?"
"Well, then, how is it you have not found it yet?" For a moment Devoure's face darkened, as though he suspected sarcasm, but before Lucky's appearance of polite curiosity he could only say with half a snarl, "We will. It is only a matter of time. And since you can't help us further in this, there is no reason to postpone your execution."
Lucky said, "I doubt that you really mean what you have just said. We would be very dangerous to you dead."
"If your danger alive is any measure, I can't believe you to be serious."
"We are members of Earth's Council of Science. If we are killed, the Council will not forget it or forgive. Nor would retaliation be directed so much against Sirius as against you, individually. Remember that."
Devoure said, "I think I know more about this than you think. That creature with you is not a member of your Council."
"Not officially, perhaps, but… "
"And you, yourself-if you will allow me to finish -are rather more than a mere member. You are the adopted son of Hector Conway, the Chief Councilman, and you are the pride of the Council. So perhaps you are right." Devoure's mustached lips stretched into a humorless smile. "Perhaps there are conditions, come to think of it, that would make it convenient for you to remain alive."
"What conditions?"
"In recent weeks Earth has called an interstellar conference of nations to consider what they choose to call our invasion of their territory. Perhaps you don't know that."
"I suggested such a conference when I was first made aware of the existence of this base."
"Good. Sirius has agreed to this conference, and the meeting will take place shortly on your asteroid, Vesta. Earth, it seems"-Devoure smiled more broadly-'"is in a hurry. And we will humor them, since we have no fears as to the outcome. The outer worlds, generally, have no love for Earth and ought to have none. Our own case is ironbound. Still, we could make it so much more dramatic if we could show the exact extent of Earth's hypocrisy. They call a conference; they say they wish to solve the matter by peaceful means; but at the same time they send a war vessel to Titan with instructions to destroy our base."
"Those were not my instructions. I have acted without instructions and with no intention of committing any warlike act."
"Nevertheless, if you testify to what I have said, it will make a great impression."
"I cannot testify to what is not the truth."
Devoure disregarded that. He said harshly, "Let them see that you are neither drugged nor probed. Testify of your own free will as we will direct you. Let the conference know that the prize member of the Council of Science, Conway 's own boy, was engaged in an illegal adventure of force at the same time that Earth was sanctimoniously calling a conference and proclaiming its devotion to peace. It would settle matters once and for all."
Lucky drew a deep breath and stared at the other's coldly smiling face. He said, "Is that it? False testimony in exchange for life?"
"All right. Put it that way. Make your choice."
"There is none. I would not bear false witness in a case like this.''
Devoure's eyes narrowed to slits. ''I think you will. You have been studied closely by our agents, Councilman, and we know your weak point. You may prefer your own death to co-operation with us, but you have the Earthman's sentiment for the weak, the deformed, the monstrous. You would do it to prevent" -and the Sirian's soft and pudgy hand extended suddenly, one finger pointing rigidly at Bigman-"its death."
10. Servicemen and Robots
"Steady, Bigman," murmured Lucky.
The little Martian hunched low in his seat, his eyes watching Devoure hotly.
Lucky said, "Let's not be childish in our attempts to frighten. Execution is not easy on a world of robots. The robots can't kill us, and I'm not sure that you or your colleagues would be willing to kill a man in cold blood."
"Of course not, if you mean by killing the chopping off of a head or the blasting in of a chest. But then there's nothing frightening in a quick death. Suppose, though, that our robots prepared a stripped-down ship. Your-uh-companion could be chained to a bulkhead on that ship by robots who will, of course, be careful not to hurt him. The ship can be fitted with an automatic pilot that will take it on an orbit away from your Sun and out of the Ecliptic. There isn't a chance in a quadrillion that it would ever be spotted by anyone from Earth. It will travel on forever."
Bigman broke in, "Lucky, it doesn't matter what they do to me. Don't you agree to anything."
Devoure said, unheeding, "Your companion will have plenty of air and there'll be a tube of water within reach if it's thirsty. Of course it will be alone and there will be no food. Starvation is a slow death, and starvation in the ultimate loneliness of space is a horrible thing to contemplate."
Lucky said, "That would be a dastardly and dishonorable way of treating a prisoner of war."
"There is no war. You are merely spies. And in any case, there is no need for it to happen, eh, Councilman? You need only sign the necessary confession that you intended to attack us and agree to confirm this in person at the conference. I am sure you will heed the beggings of the thing you have befriended."
"Beggings!" Bigman leaped, crimson-faced, to his feet.
Devoure raised his voice abruptly. "That thing is to be taken into custody. Proceed."
Two robots materialized silently at either side, and each seized an arm. For a moment Bigman writhed, and his body lifted off the floor with the intensity of his effort, but his arms were held motionless.
One of the robots said, "The master will please not resist, as otherwise the master may harm himself despite all we can do."
Devoure said, "You'll have twenty-four hours to make up your mind. Plenty of time, eh, Councilman?" He looked at the illuminated figures on the strip of decorative metal that encircled his left wrist. "And meanwhile, we will prepare our stripped ship. If we don't have to use it, as I expect we won't, why, what's labor to robots, eh, Councilman? Sit where you are; there is no use in trying to help your companion. He will not be hurt for the while."
Bigman was carried out of the room bodily while Lucky, half risen out of his seat, watched helplessly.
A light flashed on a small box on the conference table. Devoure leaned over to touch it, and a luminous tube sprang into being just above the box. The image of a head appeared. A voice said, "Yonge and I have the report that you have the Councilman, Devoure. Why were we told only after his landing?"
"What difference does that make, Zayon? You know now. Are you coming in?"
"We certainly are. We wish to meet the Councilman."
"Come then to my office."
Fifteen minutes later, two Sirians arrived. Both were as tall as Devoure; both were olive-skinned (the greater ultraviolet radiation of Sirius produced a dark skin, Lucky realized), but they were older. The cut hair of one was grizzled to steely gray. He was thin-lipped and spoke with rapid precision. He was introduced as Harrig Zayon, and his uniform made it clear he was a member of the Sirian Space Service.
The other was going somewhat bald. There was a long scar on his forearm and he had the keen look of one who had grown old in space. He was Barrett Yonge, also of the Space Service.