“Even so,” the commander said, “what can we do?”
“I sang once before because I had a message for the men of Earth,” the mauki said. “If enough had heard me then, this war might never have happened. Now they must hear me for sure, before everything is lost.” She smiled sadly. “It is painful for children to put away their toys and take up the tools of men.
But how much more painful when a child grows up! We no longer dare remain children.”
“Then you want to spread this story?” the commander said.
“I do, and the sooner the better. If these young people can find a way to make the others listen.” Perhaps it was the simple fact that none of the Earthmen in the blockading fleet had ever heard a mauki chant before that finally made them agree, from sheer curiosity, to listen.
Of course it was possible that the Earth commander really believed the story that Tom and Joyce told him, although that seemed doubtful when the story was retold in later days. Perhaps he had seen some partisan advantage to it, or perhaps he had already heard of the Spacer fleet poised and ready to move in toward Earth when Ben Trefon piloted his little S-80 back out through the Maze under a flag of truce to bring the Barrons to the command ship.
Whatever his reasons for allowing the truce ship through, the Earth commander was surely suspicious as well as curious. Earthmen through the centuries had heard enough about the strange singing of Spacer women to be cautious of its remarkable power. Rumors and stories had grown over the years; many Earthmen believed that these women the Spacers called maukis had some supernatural gift, some magical power to bend men’s wills with the sorcery of their singing. Few Earthmen ever stopped to think that every human civilization since the dawn of history had made music in some form a part of its life, and that in times past other exiled people on Earth itself had developed their own peculiar laments to express themselves.
This had been the way with Spacers. Life in space had never been easy; only through songs and stories could they keep alive the memory of their lives on Earth, and the hopes that they held for returning one day. There was no magic in a mauki chant. It had no mystical power. But always the singing of Spacer women had come from the heart, driven into words by loneliness and longing.
So the Earth commander’s fears were empty, but they nearly prevailed nonetheless. When Ben Trefon landed his ship with his Earthling friends in the berth of the great Earth command ship, it was only through the Barrons’ insistence that he was allowed to join them in facing the Earth commander at all.
And as they recounted the things they had told the commander on Asteroid Central, the Earth commander’s face grew heavy with suspicion.
Yet somehow he seemed to sense the urgency in what they were saying. When they finished he regarded them thoughtfully. “So it is to end hostilities that you wish us to hear this mauki sing,” he said at last. “Very well, we will agree. Let your commander surrender his fortress to us and order his outlying fleet to disarm. We will grant amnesty to all but your leaders, and make every humane effort to permit you to return to your homes in space. Then we will allow your mauki to sing her message to people on Earth and in space alike, and see if the end of your exile can be negotiated.” Ben’s face turned red as he listened; now he shook his head vehemently. “There will be no surrender, conditional or otherwise.”
The Earth commander turned to Tom Barron. “You want the woman to sing. Convince your friend to accept my terms.”
“Never,” Tom Barron said. “The Spacers are not about to surrender. Let the mauki sing first.”
“How do we know this is not a trap?” the Earth commander said. “We would have to stop blocking their radios in order to broadcast her message. How can we be sure that a message will not go out ordering the outlying fleet to attack Earth at once? How do we know that the woman won’t hypnotize us all with her words?”
“You can’t know,” Ben Trefon said. “You simply have to take the risk that our word will be good.” The commander looked at him. “Then you must also be willing to take a risk.”
“Like what?”
“Like bringing the mauki out to this ship to sing.”
“Of course. She will gladly come.”
“And you will pilot one of our warships through the Maze to fetch her,” the Earth commander said.
Ben’s jaw sagged, and he realized with a sinking feeling that he was trapped. One warship, carrying one hydrogen warhead, and Asteroid Central could be destroyed. One blow, dealt in treachery, could be the final blow of the war, triggering mass retaliation from the Spacers’ outlying fleet.
“Well?” the Earth commander demanded. “What do you say?”
Ben turned to Tom and drew him aside. “What shall I do?” he said. “What can I tell him?”
“Tell him you accept,” Tom said. “Not a shell will be fired if he gives his word. I’m certain of it.”
“But you could be wrong.”
“If I’m wrong, then everything is lost.”
Ben Trefon took a deep breath and turned back to the Earth commander. If there was treachery, the blame would rest on his shoulders, but it could not be helped. Somewhere, sometime, there had to be a starting place for mutual trust and understanding. “All right,” he said. “I’ll take your warship through.” Anyone born and raised in space was accustomed to danger, and Ben Trefon had made many perilous journeys before. But never before had he felt the peril so overwhelmingly as he did now as he nosed the great battle cruiser from the Earth fleet into the passage through the Maze heading for Asteroid Central and the mauki who was waiting there.
It had been agreed that Ben would pilot the ship, after he had convinced the Earth commander that experience and navigational skill were as critical to a safe passage as knowledge of the proper route to follow. He had chosen the passage that required the least speed and maneuverability, for the Earth ship was slow and clumsy in its reactions and his own unfamiliarity with the controls was an impediment. Tom Barron was at his side at the control panel, while Joyce waited back on the command ship, but the Earth commander had elected to accompany them, and the cruiser carried a full battle crew of twenty men.
Cautiously Ben eased the ship forward, waiting for the rift in the whirling asteroids to appear that would signal a safe entry into the Maze. He knew that radio silence had been broken long enough to beam a message straight at Asteroid Central’s main receivers: HOLD YOUR FIRE! A CONTACT
SHIP IS COMING THROUGH! HOLD YOUR FIRE! Earlier he had personally talked for fifteen minutes to the commander on Asteroid Central, his voice carried on a tight beam to prevent Central from broadcasting beyond the blockade. But try as he would, he could not persuade the commander to promise no attack on the great Earth ship. Finally he had broken contact deliberately, hoping that time to reconsider might change his commander’s mind.
He could understand the commander’s viewpoint, of course. It would be suicide to allow an enemy battleship to penetrate the Maze without some kind of guarantee that Asteroid Central would not be fired upon. All of the Earth commander’s assurances that no shell would be fired without provocation would mean very little indeed if one shell were then launched in treachery. And now, try as he would to put them from his mind, he was remembering all the stories he had ever heard of the native inborn treachery and faithlessness of Earthmen when Spacers had been foolish enough to trust them.
However, now the time for trust had finally arrived. Promises would not mend the centuries of distrust between his people and the Earthmen. Sometimes someone had to make himself vulnerable, someone had to be willing to take the risk if there was to be any hope of bringing the Searchers’ message to Earthmen and Spacer alike. Ben noticed the tension on the faces of the cruiser’s men, and he relaxed a little. There was no sign of elation here, no sign of excitement of an impending victory. The Earth commander was pacing the cabin nervously, watching Ben’s every move as though his only concern was that the great missile tubes on Asteroid Central really hold their fire after all.